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#atlj-fucj^cr of ^orano. — Jxoutisjjirte, 



Holding by the consul with one hand, the fugitive strove to keep 
off' her assailants with the other arm. 


p. M. 



THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORAIO. 


\ 





yALE OF JtALY and HER jpY ANGEL. 


BY Mrs. JULIA McNAlR WRIGHT. 

>1 


AUTHOR OF “almost A NUN,” “ LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF BIBLE STORY,” 
“secrets OF THE CONVENT AND CONFESSIONAL,” 

EARLY BRITISH CHURCH,” ETC. 


v\ 


PHILADELP 

The American Sunday- 

1122 Chestnut Street 


JUN IB 1^1, 


New York. 


Chicago. 



4 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
Julia McNair Wright, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881, by 
The American Sunday-School Union, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


FERGUSON BROS. & CO., 
ELECTROTYPERS, PHILADELPHIA. 


NOTE BY THE AUTHOR. 


T his story is historically true. A correct picture 
is here given of the methods and progress of 
the Vaudois Church during the last twenty 
years. Padres Trentadue, Postiglione, and Inno- 
cenza are sketched from life. The Marchese and 
Marchesa Forano, the sapient Gulio, the Polwarths, 
and Assunta, are actual portraits. The conver- 
sations recorded with the Marchesa Forano are 
given verbatim as they occurred. The story of 
the Parish of Santa Marie Maggiore on the hills was 
related to the author by two Evangelical Pastors. 
The terrible facts of the Barletta massacre are taken 
from the Tuscan papers of that date. Finally the 
book, as it was written just after a lengthened resi- 
dence in Italy, may be relied on as a careful study 
of Italian life and Evangelism. 


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The Oath-Keeper of Forano: 

A Tale of Italy and her Evangel. 


CHAPTER 1 . 

THE LAST DAY OF THE CARNIVAL. 

“ Oh vows, oh convent, I have not lost my humanity under 
your inexorable discipline : you have not made me marble by 
changing my habit ! ” — Eloise to Abelard. 

B ehold the afternoon of the maddest day 
of the Italian year: the last day of the 
Carnival, the day when all the merry-making 
grows wilder and more frantic, until the bell 
tolls in mid-night and the austerities of Lent. 
When the sun rose on this last day of Carnival, 
i860, there rose also along the horizon a cloud 
like a man’s hand ; it grew with the growing 
day. 

None of the merry-makers heeded either the 

sun or the cloud; the business in hand was to 
1 * ( 5 ) 


6 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

prepare for the Corso ” in the afternoon ; for 
this special occasion had been reserved the most 
gorgeous costumes, the quaintest conceits, and 
the most fantastic masks, wherewith to contest 
for the civic prize of buffoonery, and by three 
o’clock the “ Corso ” was crowded with nearly all 
the vehicles of the city, private and public, fine 
and shabby, all pressing toward the Piazza. 

Among the carriages was one containing three 
nuns, evidently bo7ta fide members of an order, 
not maskers bent on a frolic, and just as evi- 
dently desirous of escaping the crowd. To do 
that was impossible, and finally their carriage 
was brought to a full stop immediately in front 
of the British Consulate. 

One nun on the back seat leaned forward to 
calculate the probable length of the delay by 
counting the vehicles entangled before them; 
the nun beside her looked backward to see how 
near to her shoulders were the heads of the 
horses of the coach next in the rear ; the third 
nun leaped at a bound from the front seat (which 
she occupied alone), to the sidewalk, and rushed 
into the Consulate. Evidently a woman of 
quick mind and equal to emergencies, she no 


LAST DAY OF THE CARNIVAL. 


7 


sooner gained the office than she selected the 
Consul from his two subordinates, and grasping 
his arm exclaimed, with an unmistakable English 
accent : 

I demand your protection ! I am a British 
subject unlawfully imprisoned in a convent. 
Here in your office I am in England, and I 
claim your aid, my lawful rights, the protection 
of my country’s flag ! ” 

At this instant the two other nuns ran in, 
crying in Italian : 

Illustrissimo Signore ! pardon ; our poor sister 
Theresa is insane ; we are removing her to a 
hospital. Aid us in replacing her in the car- 
riage and we will no longer trouble you. A 
thousand pardons for the poor unhappy one’s 
intrusion.” 

“You see I am not insane,” said the first 
comer eagerly, fixing an agonized look on the 
perturbed Consul. “ I beseech your help as you 
are a gentleman ; I claim it as I am unfortunate ; 
I demand it from an officer of my own govern- 
ment, set here to aid those who are oppressed as 
I am. I am English, and you must protect me ! ” 
The other nuns, not understanding her words, 


8 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


but well imagining their purport, began again, 
rather angrily, with '' Illustrissimol' and asserted 
that their insane sister ” was an Italian, edu- 
cated in England— demanding that she should 
be restored to their care. They were much 
excited, especially as the crowd outside had 
laughed and hooted when their ‘‘ sister ” so un- 
expectedly deserted them. The Consul looked 
uneasily at the nun who held him by the arm. 

“ How shall I know that you are a British 
subject and have a right to my interference for 
you ? Why not go with these ladies until I 
have opportunity to examine into your claims?” 

Because it would be to go to my death. I 
should never be heard of after I left your door. 
Indeed you know that I am English from my 
language. Six years ago I was Judith Lyons, 
of No. — Portland Place. My father was 
David Lyons, of No. — Ludgate Hill. I was 
seized while returning to England, and have 
been imprisoned in a convent five years. I must 
have your protection ! ” 

“ Lyons — 1854 — Portland Place,” said one of 
the clerks, who looked deeply interested. “ Here’s 
a London Directory for ’56; ” he hastily turned 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 


9 


over the leaves. ^^The names are here, sir. 
Yes, Lyons of Ludgate Hill; three large es- 
tablishments.” 

The Italian nuns, with a volley of “ pardons,” 
darted at their ‘‘ sister ” and endeavored to drag 
her away with them. 

Holding by the Consul with one hand the 
fugitive strove to keep off her assailants with 
the other arm. Her bonnet and head wrappings 
fell away, and showed a face which, though 
worn and marked by grief, was remarkably 
beautiful. The Consul by words, and one of 
his clerks by a gentle laying on of hands, inter- 
fered to protect the stranger, and the second 
clerk vouchsafed the remark that in his opinion 
it was a clear case. 

The Consul loath to quarrel with the holy 
church, found that the refugee had two cham- 
pions besides his own sympathies, and now in- 
sinuatingly addressing the defendants as signor- 
inas^ assured them that he was certain the 
affair could be satisfactorily explained, but that 
his duty compelled him to hear the prayer of 
one who was evidently an Englishwoman ; and 
that he must certainly protect her until the 


10 


THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 


matter could be laid before the right authorities, 
and a proper and legal decision arrived at At 
this stage of his remarks a happy thought came 
to him. 

You know the excellent Father Salvatore 
Zucchi, of the Duomo?” 

The nuns brightened. He is the confessor 
of our convent” 

“ We can then settle the business speedily and 
amicably, I presume,” said the Consul, “at least, 
I had better deal directly with the Padre. If 
you two would wait upon him and state your 
case, and request him to come at his earliest 
convenience to the Consulate, I trust we shall 
be able to arrive at a proper understanding 
without any public scandal.” 

The word scandal was well used. Mother 
Church objects to open scandals, and the two 
nuns began to feel that their best resort would 
be to Father Zucchi. The Consul took advan- 
tage of their hesitation, he gently pushed the 
claimant of his protection into an inner room, 
and begged leave to escort the signorinas to 
their carriage, assuring them that he should not 
leave the Consulate during the remainder of the 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 11 

• day, and would not miss the expected visit from 
Padre Zucchi. 

Bare-headed, and with the utmost deference, 
the Consul waited upon the irate nuns to their 
fiacre ; the crowd had thickened — news of a 
nun’s escape had spread — and as the two sisters 
appeared without the third, laughter, queries, 
and jibes met them. Happily this was but for 
an instant, for just then a rabble, carrying a 
platform on which was seated in state, crowned, 
and sceptered, and tinsel-decked, an enormous 
figure, appeared at a corner, and the easily 
diverted Italian crowd followed it with a shout 
— -it was King Carnival going to the grand 
piazza, to be burned at midnight. 

The disappointed sisters drove off in search 
of Father Zucchi, and the Consul returned to 
his protege. As he opened the door of the 
inner room, he found that she had torn off her 
veil, kerchief, rosary, crucifix, all of the nun’s 
gear of which she could free herself, and was 
trampling them under her feet in a fury. 

“Ah!” she said, with a deep breath; “you 
think from this that I am insane. But consider 
these are the tokens of my captivity, my cruel 


12 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


slavery; of separation from my kindred, from 
my home, from my religion; these are the 
trappings of the accursed woman-worshippers. 
May the God of Israel deal with you as you 
deal with me, and bless you as you protect 
me ! ” 

You are a Jewess,” said the Consul. 

Yes, a Jewess, and by reason of that none 
the less an English subject, with English rights.” 

“Not at all,” said the Consul, calmly; “and 
be sure that I will protect those rights.” 

“ I show very little gratitude for what you 
have already done,” said the stranger, growing 
more quiet; “but when you know my history 
you will not wonder at my excitement.” 

“And I must know your history immediately, 
before Father Zucchi comes, that I may better 
understand how to deal with him. Let me hear 
what you can tell me, and be calm and explicit, 
I beg of you.” 

The junior clerk here entered with a glass of 
wine for the lady, and placed a chair for her. 
She accepted these attentions mechanically, with 
her eyes fixed on the Consul. 

“ Now, then,” said the brisk official, “ your 


ZAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 


13 


name, age, birthplace — let us know what we are 
doing.” 

“ My name, Judith Lyons — born in London; 
my age, twenty-six. Six years ago I married 
in London an Italian named Nicole Forano, a 
younger half-brother of the Marchese Forano. 
Nicole was a Roman Catholic — I, a Jewess ; and 
as we were neither of us ready to change our 
religion, we were married by a magistrate. My 
family consented to the match, but did not pre- 
fer it. Soon after we came to Italy. You know 
that here by his church a civil marriage would 
not be recognized, but Nicole hoped that before 
long I would unite with his church, and we 
could be remarried by a priest. I might have 
made such a change in time ; I cannot tell. I 
had then never seen the inside of a convent. A 
marriage at any time by a priest would have 
satisfied the clergy, and legitimated any chil- 
dren born during the existence of the merely 
civil marriage. A year passed ; we were very 
happy in a little mountain villa of our own. 
Forano had not presented me to his family; he 
was waiting for the time when I should belong 
to their church. When the year ended I had a 
2 


14 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

son ; and alas ! sir, before that son was a month 
old, my husband was dead. I had known all 
along that the priest near us was my great 
enemy. The Marchese Forano was elderly and 
childless; my husband was the next heir of the 
little estate, and after him our child, if our mar- 
riage was legitimated, or if the Marchese should 
see fit to adopt the child as his heir ; without 
that, lacking an heir, he very probably would 
bequeath his property to the church. Nicole 
had explained all this to me, and when he was 
dead, and I had no defender, my whole desire 
was to go with my child to my family; I knew 
I should be welcome, and their fortune was 
ample. 1, wrote them when I would come. A 
young man, the favorite servant of Nicole, a 
youth whose family had always served the 
Foranos, was to be my only attendant. I had 
made my preparations ; we were to start at day- 
break. After I lay down that night with my 
child in my arms, eager for the hour to come 
when I should escape from the scene of my 
great happiness and my great misery, I knew 
nothing that happened; when I again became 
conscious of myself I was in a narrow bed in a 


LAST DAY OF THE CARNIVAL. 


15 


convent hospital, and nuns were about me ; they 
told me that a month had passed, that my child 
was dead, and that I had been ill of a fever. I 
do not believe that, for fevers weaken and 
emaciate, and I found myself in my usual flesh 
and strength. I gradually learned that I was a 
prisoner. I was not allowed to communicate 
with the outer world, nor to go to England. 
They strove to convert me, as they said, but 
what Nicole’s love might have done, could not 
.be accomplished by their harshness. They 
made a nun of me, as they retained me against 
my will. All my desire now is, to get to Eng- 
land to my friends. If my child is dead I have 
no tie here; if he lives I cannot find him if I 
stay. I wish you to send me to my friends.” 

A tap on the door. The Padre Zucchi ! ” 
said the junior clerk. Take him to my private 
parlor,” said the Consul. Then turning to his 
companion, he said: I, abiding by our own law 
and recognizing that your marriage is valid in 
England, must call you only Madame Forano, 
and be sure that I will defend your rights, and 
endeavor to accomplish all your wishes — ” 

“And — if you could find out anything about 


4 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


my child!” said Madame Forano, earnestly. 
The Consul bowed and left the room. 

His first care was to send a particularly de- 
lightful collation to the parlor, as his avant 
courier to the waiting priest ; when he followed 
the collation which the priest was lovingly ey- 
ing, he made his first words complimentary to 
an extent that would have done honor to an 
Italian. Then drawing two chairs near the 
table, he continued : “ It is true that we have a 
little matter of business to discuss, but even busi- 
ness can be made agreeable over good viands 
and good Chiayitiy and as Carnival is going and 
Lent is coming, we will make the best of our 
time, and also reach a pleasant settlement of a 
little matter which I could not conveniently con- 
clude with the ladies. I hope Chianti suits 
your taste ? ” 

Father Zucchi replied that Chianti particularly 
suited him, and when his glass was filled pro- 
ceeded with alacrity to empty it. Meanwhile 
the Consul was called from the room. 

Mr. had been in office but three years, 

his predecessor having died in 1857. The 
senior clerk, who had requested a moment’s 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL, 17 

conversation with him, said that he had been 
looking over the papers of 1855 and 1856, and 
had found a letter from David Lyons, request- 
ing the fact of his daughter Judith Lyons 
Forano’s death to be inquired into. A note 
made by a previous clerk on the letter stated 
that the death had been attested by a certain 
parish priest. 

The Consul returned to Padre Zucchi, and plied 
him well with food and wine, as they proceeded 
to the consideration of the question in hand.- 

“Of course,” said the Consul, “you could 
affirm that this is not the daughter of David 
Lyons, of London. In which case, after appli- 
cation to the proper court, I must send for some 
one of the Lyons family to come and identify 
the lady, if they so desired. If you admit her 
to be Judith Lyons, you have two courses be- 
fore you ; either to yield the Validity of the mar- 
riage, and put her in communication with the 
Marchese Forano, as the head of the family ; or, 
rejecting the marriage, and taking no more 
trouble about her, simply to permit me quietly 
to send her to England, which I pledge you my 
word to do within three days.” 

2 * 


B 


18 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“What she tells you is false,” said Padre 
Zucchi. “ She desired to enter a convent, and 
voluntarily assumed vows, and now yields to 
her evil heart and renounces her vocation.” 

“ Then I am sure your convent would be well 
rid of her.” 

“ But we have a duty to ourselves, to her, to 
the church, to the family Forano — always very 
good Catholics.” 

“ Perhaps we had better communicate with 
the Marchese ? ” 

“Not at all. He is feeble and elderly. I 

must consider his interest.” 

« 

“And why not return the young woman to 
her friends ? The sin of breaking a vow would 
be hers only ; you would be free of the trouble 
of her, and the Forano family need never hear 
of her again, unless they make the first advances.” 

“ But they woul^ hear of her again, and be 
continually put to trouble by her. She is a 
very evil-disposed, ambitious young woman. 
In London, aided by her friends, she would 
begin to persecute the Foranos about her child.” 

“ Then her child is living ? ” said the Consul, 
quickly. 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 


19 


“ Not at all ; he is dead ; but she would not 
believe it.” 

If you gave me your word as a gentleman 
that you know the child to be dead, and I so 
assure her of its death, she will accept the fact, 
I am confident. I feel certain that she would 
hereafter annoy no one. I argue this matter 
thus, trusting that you may see, as I do, that a 
quiet settlement is best for all concerned. I 
have never had any disputes with your govern- 
ment or church ; I desire none. If you will 
agree to hush all reports, and release all claims 
— another glass of Chianti — and the lady is 
only desirous to go home, and I promise to set 
her .on the way to England at once — really you 
are scarcely tasting the salad (Father Zucchi 
had eaten half of it) — then nothing further need 
be said. If this cannot be, I must communicate 
with the British Ambassador — try the truffles — 
and it is not needful that I should tell you that 
the world is full of people to comment on 
church quarrels and church scandals. I think 
you had better try some more Chianti, and agree 
to let this rebellious young lady return to the 
care of her parents.” 


20 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

It is evident that her marriage with Nicole 
Forano is, in Italy, quite invalid,” began Padre 
Zucchi. 

“ Then she can have no claim on the Foranos, 
if we accept that view,” said the Consul ; and 
^her child is dead — ” 

Oh, but her child is certainly dead/’ inter- 
rupted the priest. 

Then she has no tie here, and by all means 
had better return to her early home.” 

The Consul had no desire but to arrive at an 
amicable settlement with the priest. He must 
quiet his own conscience by securing the safety 
of the woman who had cast herself on his pro- 
tection ; and the more quietly he could do this 
the better satisfied he would be. To this end 
he mollified the Padre with Chianti and compli- 
ments, and urged him by logical reasonings 
which the confessor could not rebut. After a 
long discussion the priest agreed to release all 
claim on ‘‘ Sister Theresa,” and to tell the Con- 
sul, in the presence of the clerks, that he was 
quite willing that she should be sent to Eng- 
land, provided that the Consul would see to it 
that no rumors derogatory to the church got 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 21 

abroad, and that nothing capable of establishing 
an evil precedent might happen ; provided, also, 
that “Sister Theresa” should depart within 
three days. To this the Consul agreed, and the 
Padre then gave way to a fatherly anxiety as to 
the means to be provided for the departure of 
his recreant daughter, and the route which she 
should pursue. On these points, however, the 
Consul was reticent ; all he would say was that 
by the evening of the third day Judith Lyons 
Forano should be out of Italy. 

It was nearly sunset when Padre Zucchi left 
the Consulate. As the vexed ecclesiastic pro- 
ceeded towards the Duomo for vespers, a little 
boat upon the bay began to draw near the land, 
and the cloud in the sky, which had rapidly in- 
creased, hung like a black curtain over all the 
west. Beneath the edge of this curtain the set- 
ting sun shot a long level ray across the waters 
upon the little boat, as if he had nothing else to 
shine upon. Against the molten gold of this 
last blaze of sunset Gorgonia loomed like a 
black spectre, the whole heaven gathered dark- 
ness, and a fierce wind rushed forth, with the 
rain on its wings. 


22 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

The little boat which was speeding landward 
hailed from a small xebec bound for Corsica, 
a vessel with the sharply pointed, red, tri- 
angular sails peculiar to the Levant. The man 
who rowed the boat was in the costume of a 
Tuscan mountaineer — low shoes, long white 
hose, black velveteen knee-breeches and jacket, 
a crimson silk sash about his waist, a profusion 
of silver bell buttons, and an elaborately em- 
broidered shirt-front; a muscular, handsome 
fellow of thirty, with thick black curls clustering 
from under his small round fox-skin cap. Be- 
fore him in the boat was a bag of loose white 
sacking, standing up steadily in virtue of its 
contents, whatever they were, but having at 
times a tremulous motion, perhaps imparted by 
the vigorous oar-strokes that drove the boat 
through the water. Whenever the rower looked 
at his freight a curious expression of mingled 
amusement, pain and anxiety crossed his face. 

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and 
the evening was closing darkly when the boat 
touched the shore. The rower made it fast, 
pocketed his fur cap, donned in its stead a Car- 
nival cap of white cotton trimmed with ribbons, 


LAST DAY OF THE CARNIVAL. 23 

lightly swung his bag on his shoulder, and 
choosing by-streets hastened toward the centre 
of the city. After a ten-minutes’ walk he passed 
a huge antique Palazzo, with carved front, a 
great arched carriage gateway, and a porter’s 
lodge beside it. The gateway stood open, the 
inner court was empty, no face peered from 
the window of the porter’s lodge. Our gay 
boatman, with a keen scrutiny, passed the Palazzo 
once, muttered some curse on his own irres- 
olution as he went by, then turned, darted in 
at the gateway, and went with long, silent strides 
toward the piano nobile, the first floor above the 
ground in Italian houses — the ground floor in 
such a Palazzo as we describe being devoted to 
the porter, the fuel, the carriages and the stables. 
The intruder entered the piano nobile unchal- 
lenged. A lamp made darkness visible in the 
large, vaulted, brick-paved hall, and through 
this he darted to the door of a grand salon, 
which he very cautiously set ajar. The salon 
was unoccupied ; Carnival seemed to have 
drained the house of its inmates. 

A wood fire blazed at the farther side of the 
salon, and before it lay a great velvet rug, like a 


24 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


heap of summer .flowers. On this rug the 
mountaineer set his bag, busied himself one 
instant with it, and then, the sack having fallen 
to the floor, revealed as its contents a handsome 
little boy. The man made the child a low 
conge in a merry, mocking way, kissed his 
hand between love and respect, tossed the bag 
upon his shoulder, and hurried from the room. 
Unnoticed, he gained the street, stole by one or 
two narrow ways to a dark corner, replaced his 
fur cap, took from the bag a long cloak of faded 
green cloth with a fur collar, wrapped it over 
his finery, threw the sack away, and in five 
minutes more was lounging into a wine shop 
on the Corso, ready to gossip with any stranger 
whom he might meet. 

But let us look to the child in the drawing- 
room of the Palazzo Borgosoia. The salon had 
a vaulted, gorgeously frescoed ceiling ; the walls 
were in panels of yellow satin, divided by strips 
of mirror-glass, extending from floor to ceiling; 
the blazing fire gave just then the only light, 
and revealed several statues, which were re- 
duplicated fitfully in the narrow mirrors; the 
fire-place and mantle were a mass of elaborate 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 25 

carvings, heavily gilded ; the entire wood-work 
of all the furniture in the room was gilded, while 
it was upholstered with blue satin; a great 
basket of flowers occupied the centre of the mo- 
saic table. Amid all this magnificence the 
little stranger stood in the full light of the fire, 
an erect, well-made child. He wore the favorite 
Carnival costume of the poor: sandals of un- 
dressed cowskin ; the white knitted hose which 
even the poorest Italians always wear; white 
cotton drawers, with wide, stifly-fluted ruffles at 
the ankles ; a white shirt reaching to the knee, 
and similarly ruffled at neck, skirt and wrists ; 
and a high conical cap like a dunce-cap, of white 
cotton, with yard-long streamers of red and blue 
ribbons falling from its apex. On this white, 
quaint figure the firelight shone, touching his 
thick black curls with gold, reflected in his great, 
eager black eyes, and deepening the glow of his 
olive cheeks. He looked in wonder at the 
dimly revealed angels on the ceiling, and the 
marble gods of Hellas in the corners. Having 
never seen gold, except one small coin and one 
thin ring, he believed that all this that glittered 

about him was gold indeed ; he, who had never 
3 


26 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

seen a looking-glass, beheld in the mirror op- 
posite a beautiful little boy, dressed like himself ; 
he looked about and saw just such a little boy 
behind him, and a succession of such little boys, 
in whole or in part revealed, at regular intervals 
along the wall. As he meditated curiously on 
this multiplicity of little boys, the door opened 
to the entrance of an old man and a young 
lady. 

The pair stopped, amazed at the stranger. 
Presently the young lady exclaimed : 

“A fairy, elf, brownie, nis — whatever is the 
local genius of Italy ! — or perhaps the spirit of 
the Carnival ! ” 

‘‘Stop, Honor! don’t move! Bless my soul, 
what a study for a picture ! Stay until I fix it 
on my mind. Ah, if I had my brushes and 
could paint by electricity, to catch this before 
it vanishes ! ” cried the old man. 

“ We could reproduce it at any time, uncle,” 
said the girl; “we have the room, and if the 
child is a reality and not a phantom I suppose 
he will be obtainable whenever you wish to 
make a study of him.” 

“ That firelight — those lights and shadows — 


LAST DAY OF THE CARNIVAL. 27 ; 

that child so brightly brought out — that sullen 
red glow,” murmured the old artist. But Honor, 
kneeling down before the small visitor, and 
taking his brown hand in hers, said in Italian : 

“ Good-evening, little sir. What is your name, 
and where did you come from ? ” 

The child regarded her tranquilly, yet as one 
not understanding a word. Having asked sev- 
eral other questions in Italian, Honor, having 
no success in the language of the country, tried 
French. Still the bright eyes were fixed on hers, 
but no reply came. 

Speak to him in German, uncle,” she said. 
But the German was quite as ineffectual as the 
other tongues. “ Our own language, then — 
English,” said Honor. But English was sound 
without sense to the child. 

“ I will ring for Assunta,” said the old gen- 
tleman ; *^but I apprehend. Honor, that the 
child is a deaf mute.” 

The child, however, immediately disproved 
this, for, as Assunta entered, saying “ Signore,” 
the boy quickly turned his head to the side 
whence the sound came. 

Assunta, the lady’s maid, was as greatly sur- 


28 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


prised at the presence of the child as her master 
had been. She was sure no one could have 
entered the house, and seemed inclined to 
suspect witchcraft. 

But now the excitable old artist was sure 
robbers were in his Palazzo, and the police must 
be sent for to search every corner. Honor, 
however, desired to have the search committed 
to herself and the gate porter, putting little 
faith in the Italian police. 

“And then, uncle, they might insist on carry- 
ing off the child, and how shocking to have 
such a charming little fellow in one of their 
dreadful dens. And then you might not be 
able to get him to paint in your new picture.” 

This suggestion was well put. Uncle Fran- 
cini consented that Honor should explore his 
dwelling, accompanied by Assunta and the 
porter. * 

To her satisfaction Honor discovered nothing 
suspicious. Meanwhile the artist had devoted 
himself to the child, and could only make out 
that his hearing was perfect, yet that he did not 
comprehend a word of the half dozen lan- 
guages which had been addressed to him. As- 


4 


LAST DA Y OF THE CARNIVAL. 29 

sunta, returning with her mistress, suggested 
that the child might be an idiot; but Signore 
Francini indignantly declared that the little 
fellow had the most beautiful head that he had 
ever seen. 

Assunta’s next suggestion met with more 
favor, namely, that the child had been aban- 
doned by its parents or guardians, who had 
trusted that his extraordinary beauty would win 
him the favor and protection of a famous artist 
like the Signore. This compliment had its ef- 
fect on old Francini ; yet, after carefully re-ex- 
amining the waif, he gave it as his fixed opinion 
that he was no common child, but must be of 
good family. They would, on the morrow, 
strive to unravel the mystery ; meanwhile As- 
sunta might give the boy his supper and put 
him to bed. 

This done, Assunta returned to the parlor de- 
claring that the child was a marvel of health 
and perfect form ; and any sculptor in Italy 
might rejoice in him as a model; in fine, that he 
was as beautiful as the cherubs painted by Sig- 
nore Francini himself. 

“And did he speak, Assunta?” aske’d Honor. 

3 * 


30 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Not the half a quarter of a word, Signorina.” 

Did he, then, know anything of a prayer, or 
of worship?” 

“ He crossed himself, Signorina, looked about 
as for some picture which he had been used to 
see, and got into bed,” replied Assunta, shrug- 
ging her shoulders. 

“ Send up our supper, Assunta, and see to it 
that you have the boy locked into his room; 
and he is by no means to be let go without my 
orders,” said Signore Francini. 

By this time it was raining heavily ; the rain 
dashed against the windows and swept the 
streets clear of merry-makers. Doleful disap- 
pointment reigned in the city. This last even- 
ing was to have been the climax of the festival ; 
florists had prepared bouquets, and confection- 
ers’ boxes of candies, and bakers hundreds of 
cakes, wherewith the crowd were to have pelted 
each other and regaled themselves. But now 
florists, bakers, and confectioners ground their 
teeth in despair. The company who had erected 
pavilions and tiers of seats on the grand pi- 
azza tore their hair, since they had their work- 
men to pay and no one to hire the seats. 


LAST DA y OF THE CARNIVAL. 31 

The mob which was to have burned King Car- 
nival had prepared wood, tar, oil, pitch, where- 
with to offer the giant puppet as a holocaust 
to the austere spirit of Lent, but now crowded 
the wine shops, anathematizing the unpropitious 
saints who had sent foul weather and brought 
the Lenten Winter of their discontent twelve 
hours before its time. A great tempest lashed 
the Mediterranean ; the mighty waves battered 
the sea-wall, besieged the lighthouses, took by 
wild sorties the quiet nooks of the shore, hurled 
white foam-crests fifty feet into the air as they 
charged against the piers, and whirls of spray 
swept far over the city. In such a storm it was 
quite evident that a bonfire would be a failure ; 
neither gunpowder nor petroleum would have 
been likely to burn amid so many disadvantages ; 
the fuel, tar, and rockets prepared for midnight 
were a certain loss; King Carnival could not 
and would not burn ; and if he would, there 
would have been nobody there to see. 

The end of the merry time was more doleful 
than a funeral. 


CHAPTER 11. 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 

“ Be still, then, O my soul I . 

To manage in the whole, 

Thy God permitting.” 

HE evening of the second day after Carni- 



JL val was as bright and peaceful as if there 
had never been a storm ; and as the tumult of 
the elements had settled into calm, so the small 
excitement which had been occasioned in the 
British Consulate by the flight of a nun, and in 
the Palazzo Borgosoia by the mysterious appear- 
ance of the little boy, had also died away. The 
Consul had provided for the nun, and Honor 
Maxwell had provided for the little boy. 

At breakfast-time on the morning of the day 
after he had been found standing in the salon, 
Assunta brought the little boy for inspection. 

Our Uncle Francini had his hobbies, and one 
of them was blood. Trotting out this hobby for 


( 32 ) 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


33 


a morning amble, Uncle Francini discovered 
from the boy’s fine head, erect, fearless bearing, 
noble physique, and especially from the nice 
conformation of his hands and feet, that he was 
a child of good family. Alas ! when our hero 
was seated at the table he conducted himself 
like the lowest of the people, and put Uncle 
Francini to shame. However, the good gentle- 
man brightened when Honor undertook to in- 
struct the child in etiquette, and found that he 
instantly apprehended and practised her lessons 
concerning his knife, fork and napkin, his eating 
and drinking. They also endeavored to make 
him speak. 

The child, for instance, wanted a_ roll, and 
pointed at it, making the sounds and gestures 
of an untaught mute. “Please,” said Honor; 
“ say please'.' The boy watched her lips, made 
one or two herculean efforts, and said “ please ” 
with tolerable plainness. Uncle Francini at 
once became emulous. He gave the roll and 
said, grazie ; say grazie." After sjmilar at- 
tempts the pupil said grazie!' English and 
Italian seemed equally foreign to him, and his 
speech, when he acquired it, was likely to be of 


34 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

the composite order — Miss Honor teaching him 
English and Francini Italian. 

“ What shall we do with him, uncle ? shall we 
keep him ? He will make a charming model 
for you — so much better than the children we 
hire,” said Honor. 

“ Let us keep him until some one who has a 
right claims him,” said Uncle Francini ; he 
will be an interest to you, my child. I fear you 
grow dull here ; there is not so much to interest 
young ladies here as in America. You pine, 
perhaps, for your charities, for your schools, for 
your services, to be able to go in and out and 
teach people without being accused of proselyt- 
ing. You give up a great deal for your old 
uncle, my Honor.” 

“ Not at all,” said Honor. “ I like to stay 
here, and,” she added, with a flash in her eyes, 
“ I shall stay here until I may go in and out 
and teach as freely here as at home — until I 
may give a Bible or a tract, open a school, 
buy a church, without a priest daring to molest 
me. 

Dear girl, that day will never come,” said 
Uncle Francini. 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


35 


** It must come, uncle. All the world is 
waking up.” 

"'All the world is returning to darkness,” 
sighed Francini. “The old masters have no 
successors. There is now no Buonarroti to 
inspire the world with his triple talents.” 

"‘But art is not the world’s regenerator!” 
cried Honor, giving her musing uncle’s arm a 
shake. “During the French Revolution the 
mob preserved their statues and murdered their 
savants. The Bible is the means, God’s promise 
is our assurance, and by an open Bible Italian 
liberties will be established. Do you not sup- 
pose there are prayers of St. Paul for Italy yet 
waiting to be answered by the prayer-Hearer ? 
As for art, I have my doubts but the world 
would be better if every copy of those idolatrous 
old masters were out of existence.” 

“My dear Honor,” remonstrated Francini, 
“ I trust your pupil will be more amenable to 
your instructions than you are to mine concern- 
ing art.” 

“And I am to have the boy, uncle, and teach 
him, and dress him, and you are to paint him, 
eh? Then I had better send Assunta to buy 


86 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

him some clothes ; his costume is too airy for 
this chilly morning.” 

“It is quite warm enough by the fire,” said 
Francini, pulling the bell. “ Paulo must bring 
my easel and brushes and a new canvas at once, 
and I will sketch little — little — ah, Cospetto ! 
mia cara, he has no name.” 

“ We must name him,” cried Honor. “ What 
shall it be? Pietro, after your uncle? or — . 
Jasper is a delightful name ? ” 

“ No, no,” said the old artist, “ after none 
but the divine singer, painter and sculptor, 
Michael—” 

“What a blessing that you never married, 
uncle,” said Honor ; “ if you had had ten sons 
they must all have been named Michael Angelo 
Buonarroti — what a confusion ! ” 

“And none of them heir to his genius,” sighed 
Francini. “ The world does not produce Buon- 
arrotis now-a-days.” 

“ Perhaps not,” said Honor ; “ they come to 
show what man may be in genius hereafter. 
But the world to-day produces men who make 
a really nobler mark on time, and sow grander 
harvests for eternity than even Angelo.” 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 37 

*^Che, chey"'^ said Francini, too courtly to 
dispute further; “ let the child be called Michael; 
he is extremely like the glorious Michael of 
Guido Reni. Place him as he stood last night, 
that I may begin to paint.” 

Michael, the newly-named, was standing near 
them as Honor turned to him with a bright 
smile; as if quite enraptured with her appear- 
• ance, the child caught her hand and kissed it 
twice. 

It was the act and air of a courtier,” said 
, Francini. “ I am sure, Honor, the child is of 
even noble blood.” 

Paulo had prepared for his master’s work, and 
Francini was presently engrossed in his be- 
loved employment. Honor quietly took Master 
Michael’s measurement, and despatched Assunta 
to the outfitter’s for a supply of child’s clothing. 

Assunta, a pretty girl from the hills, who for 
two years had been Honor’s attendant, still wore, 
to please the artistic taste of the old painter, the 
bright and charming costume of the Italian 
peasant girl. On her way to the outfitter’s As- 
sunta met an old acquaintance, a gorgeous 


* A common Italian exclamation of doubt or denial. 
4 


38 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 


mountaineer, in velveteen, scarlet sash, buttons 
and embroidery. 

“ Why, Gulio,” said Assunta,“ here in all your 
finery for the carnival, and never come to me, to 
tell me a word of the dear Marchesa, or to take ^ 
my duty to her ! ” 

On the contrary, I have just arrived in town, 
and was now on my way expressly to see you,’^ 
said Gulio, lying with entire glibness and ease- 
of mind. “ Believe me, two years of absence 
from the sight of your smiles have made me 
pine.” 

“You don’t show it,” said Assunta, briskly. 

“It is my duty to hide my woes,” laughed 
Gulio. “ I am here on an hour’s business about 
the sale of some olive oil for the Marchesa. 
Shall I tell our Signora that you are well and 
happy, and do not regret that you missed 
taking the veil? ” 

Assunta tossed her head. . “ The veil would 
not have suited me at all, only Father Damiano 
had me over-persuaded. I bless the Signora 
every day for having prevented it.” 

“The Signora singularly undervalues con- 
vents, for a good Catholic,” said Gulio, in his 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


39 


light way. She considers them good only for 
widows and aged spinsters. She also holds the 
priesthood lightly, and asserts that a good family 
man is better than a bad priest. I have my 
pocket now encumbered with a pair of slippers 
sent her by Sen* Jacopo, the cobbler, who owes 
it to her that he is not a priest, and who yester- 
day had his eighth son christened.” 

“Speaking of sons,” said Assunta, “a boy 
came to our house on the last evening, in the 
early part of the storm.” 

“Ah, then, your Signorina has married.” 

“Not at all,” said Assunta, “the boy was five 
years old, very handsome, dumb, and no one 
knows where from.” 

“And you sent the little vagabond packing to 
the police.” 

'^Altro, are we heathen ? ” said Assunta. 
“Our Palazzo is full large, our purse is not 
empty. No, we keep the infant in the name of 
God. I am now buying clothes for him.” 

“And what is his name?” asked Gulio, who 
was carefully inspecting his knee-buckles. 

“ How can one tell, when he cannot tell one ? 


* The usual abbreviation of Signore. 


40 THE OATH KEEFER OF FORA HO. 

We have called him Michael, and we. propose 
to bring him up.” 

^‘Davvero! the saints will reward such a 
charity. And yet, perhaps he will be brought 
up a heretic.” 

“ There may be worse things than heretics,” 
said Assunta. 

Gulio looked keenly in her face and laughed. 
“Ah, he ! it has been out of the frying-pan into 
the fire with you, Signorina; out of convent into 
heresy. But I’ll not tell of you.” 

“Well,” said Assunta, uneasily, “I cannot 
stand here with you. Give my duty to the 
Marchesa, and tell her I shall yet come over 
the mountains to see her. Perhaps T will bring 
our pretty boy; she loves little children.” 

“Tutt, tutt,” cried Gulio, earnestly; “come 
alone if you would be welcome. The Signora 
grows old; she has nerves in her head; she will 
not be pleased to see a strange child.” 

“ ni not bring the boy to copy your manners,” 
said Assunta, and waving her hand, with a 
smile pleasanter than her speech, she hurried 
on. 

As for Gulio, he probably sold the olive oil — 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 41 

if, indeed, he had any to sell — by the next even- 
ing, for at five on the second day after Carnival 
we find him entering a little boat to be rowed 
to a small felucca which lay outside the mole, 
ready to sail to Elba. No ships lie at the piers 
in Mediterranean ports ; they anchor at a greater 
or less distance from the shore, and transact 
their business on shore by means of small boats. 
Near the felucca lay a steamer bound for Eng- 
land, and waiting for some passengers. 

When Gulio stepped into the boat, the 
two boatmen, who were old acquaintances, 
began to jest with him about the splendor of 
his head-gear, for he wore a black velvet smok- 
ing-cap, embroidered with oak leaves in blue, 
and decorated with a long blue tassel. 

“You must be going to your wedding, 
Gulio!” 

“ Not at all. I go to Elba on business about 
some wine.” 

“Perhaps, then, you have the purse of the 
Marchesa in your pocket, and have been tapping 
it. Look out, or we may be called on to row 
you over to Gorgona ! ” * 

* An island used as a convict station. 


4 * 


42 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“The Marchesa would not feel rich enough 
to buy such a cap.” 

“It is true,” said Gulio, with dignity, “that my 
Signora is not rich, but to be a poor noble in 
these days is to be a true noble. What we lack 
in scudi we make up in pedigree.” 

The boatmen laughed, but one of them said, 
“Yes, yes, tlje Forani have not enriched them- 
selves by oppressing the poor.” 

The mouth of an Italian harbor is made nar- 
row, in order to bring the boats passing to and 
from the ships readily under the surveillance of 
the custom-house officers. When several boats 
are pressing through this outlet at once 
they frequently get wedged together. In this 
way Gulio’s boat was driven alongside a hand- 
somer craft, containing, besides its crew, a gen- 
tleman, a lad, two ladies, and some baggage. 
As the boats momentarily delayed, one of the 
ladies suddenly screamed, “Gulio Ravi!” 

Gulio turned quickly, and as quickly turned 
away. 

“Altro 1 ” said the boatman, “ Gulio’s cap has 
fascinated the English Signorina.” 

Again the lady cried, “Gulio Ravi!” and 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


43 


throwing herself forward, tried to grasp the side 
of his boat. The- gentleman near her caught 
her arm and besought her to be quiet. 

“ Bother on the lady,” said Gulio, still keeping 
his face averted ; “ from some mistake about me 
she will upset her boat, and then we must all be 
in the water to fish her out.” 

The rowers were striving to part the boats, 
but were hindered by the number of the craft 
about them. The excited woman who had 
called to Gulio, struggled from her compan- 
ions, and shrieked, “ Gulio! Tell me, is my 
child living?” 

The woman is mad,” said Gulio, uneasily. 
The gentleman in the other boat endeavored 
to hush the lady, who was attracting general 
notice. She was not to be quieted; breaking 
loose from his grasp, she flung herself on her 
knees as the boats were rapidly parting, stretched 
forth her arms, and cried, Gulio I if my child 
lives, I conjure you to raise your hand! ” 

“Confound it!” cried Gulio. “I will sit 
where she cannot see me ! ” He started up to 
change his place, and in so doing he was 
turned from his boatmen, and towards the lady. 


44 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, • 

Was it by accident or intention that for one 
second he held up his hand with the palm turned 
to her ? Certainly she thought it was the reply 
to her entreaty. ^^My child lives!” she said, 
passionately. Where are you taking me? I 
will return; I will rescue him- — my child lives.” 

Madame Forano,” said the Consul,' you 
distress, you anger me I I have pledged my 
word to get you quietly away, and you make a 
scene, which will in two hours be discussed over 
all the city. That man did not recognize you ; 
he made you no sign; you are mistaken in 
him.” 

Mrs. Bruce, the lady with whom Madame 
Forano wa*s to travel, knew a better method of 
calming her : she clasped her arms about her, 
drew her head to her shoulder, and began to 
speak softly in her ear. Whatever she said, it 
was potent ; Madame Forano made no further 
disturbance, and reaching the waiting steamer, 
she went quietly to the state-room which she 
was to occupy with her friend. The Consul had 
recovered his affability. “ I think you will be 
comfortable here,” he said, glancing about the 
saloon and state-room. '‘Mrs. Bruce, let me 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 45 

suggest that you appear the better sailor, and 
that your soi disant maid keep her room under 
plea of sea-sickness. * She had better remain 
closely in this place.” 

am sure she will not object,” said Mrs. 
Bruce. 

“ No, no. Oh, if I might only sleep until I 
reach England!” exclaimed Madame Forano, 
laying aside her bonnet. 

“ Good-bye,” said the Consul, shaking her 
hand, and looking at her with sympathy. It 
will be one of the pleasantest memories of my 
life, that I have been able to assist you.” 

“And I could not forget you, nor cease to be 
grateful to my preserver in an eternity,” said 
Madame Forano. “ My friends will write you, 
and join their thanks to mine; you have more 
than delivered my soul from death ! ” The 
tears were in her large black eyes as she clasped 
his hand. Then an intenser feeling of passion 
and resolution rose in her soul, and burned the 
tears away. “ You will hear of me again ! My 
child lives, and I will find him if I turn over 
every stone in this wicked land ! ” 

“ Good-bye, good-bye,” said the Consul, un- 


46 THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 

willing to commit himself on the dangerous 
question of the child. “Confide all to your 
friends, and be entirely guided by them.’* 

He left the state-room door, and found Mrs. 
Bruce seated at a table near by. “ Thank you 
for coming to my rescue in extremity,” he said ; 
“ and do not let your charge say or do anything 
to attract the notice of Italian servants on 
this ship ; they will be back here and spread re- 
ports. I think her troubles have turned her 
mind a little astray. I hope you will find her 
family. If not, communicate with the address 
I gave you, and you will be relieved of re- 
sponsibility.” 

“ I will not leave her until she is safe with her 
friends,” replied Mrs. Bruce. 

“ Even if her parents are dead, sh essays she 
has some elder brothers, and there is a strong 
family and clannish feeling among Jews; she 
will be sure to find protection.” 

Bidding Mrs. Bruce and her son farewell, the 
Consul returned to his boat; the felucca was 
already off for Elba, and presently the steamer 
Orient was hurrying on its way. Mrs. Bruce 
was an American lady of the Consul’s acquaint- 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


47 


ance ; he had interested her in Madame 
Forano’s story, and obtained a passport for the 
fugitive to travel as Mrs. Bruce’s maid. Mrs. 
Bruce had procured her, dress suitable to the 
supposed station, and agreed to see her safely 
established among her friends, and the steamer 
had been chosen as the safest method of de- 
parture, especially as it sailed the day before 
the time when the Consul had promised to have 
Judith leave Italy. 

But this is a world where many things are 
being done at once ; therefore it is not strange 
that while the felucca steered toward Elba, the 
Orient toward Gibraltar, the Consul toward 
shore. Honor Maxwell and Master Michael 
should have sallied out of Palazzo Borgosoia, 
and with thoughts intent on shoes rather than 
on ships, directed their steps to the shop of Sen 
Jacopo. 

Sen Jacopo had secured the custom of Sig- 
norina Maxwell by favor of Assunta, with whom 
he was slightly acquainted. Indeed, Assunta 
had but just purchased of him a pair, of shoes 
for Michael, telling the marvellous tale of the 
foundling, and now that Honor had come to 


48 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

buy Sunday boots for the same child, the gar- 
rulous artisan was ready to talk with even more 
than his usual fluency. It was Honor’s custom 
to talk freely with her Italian tradespeople, that 
she might thus assure them of her friendly in- 
terest in them, and drop by times the words 
of instruction and Scriptural reproof and conso- 
lation of which they were in perishing need. 
Ser. Jacopo felt at ease with the young lady, and 
after bidding her ^^buona sera ,' * he continued : 

“And here is the bellissimo bambino f of which 
Assunta told me. Truly, Signorina, thus to 
take him into your gracious care is a deed that 
looks for reward only from heaven. To do such 
works of charity, Signorina, is what I call true 
religion. It was especially the religion of my 
patroness, the Marchesa Forano, to whom I owe 
it that I have this shop, my wife and eight sons. 
I have never heard the Marchesa called a learned 
lady, but she had very valuable practical sense. 
She has always held that a good citizen was 
better for Italy than an idle priest; ^nd she 
said the . country had more need of honest 
fathers than of clerics with nothing to do. 


* Good-evening. 


f The most beautiful boy. 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


49 


When I was a young lad my mother designed 
to make me a priest for three reasons : first, as an 
expiatory offering to the church; second, to free 
herself from responsibility ; and third, to secure 
me a living — which is poor enough, being but 
two francs a day and pay for a mass, if you can 
get one to repeat. I was of an age to agree to 
anything, but the Marchesa considered for me. 
She proved to my mother that she could not 
make expiation for herself through me. I con- 
sider that sound doctrine, Signorina, though 
Madame did not learn it from the holy church, 
but out of her own sense ; and yet the Marchesa 
is an excellent Catholic, always keeps her fasts, 
and attends mass.” 

Ser. Jacopo had by this time fitted Michael 
with shoes, and stood with them in his hand, 
while he continued his favorite story : 

“ Besides, the Marchesa showed my mother, 
Mary be merciful to her soul ! that she had no 
right to escape from accountability concerning 
me ; and lastly she said : ‘ Here is a great, strong 
boy ; he will want plenty to eat and drink ; he 
must be busy, or he will fall into mischief, and 

you set him to starve on two francs a day with 
5 D 


50 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

nothing to do. Instead of expiating your sins, 
he will increase his own. Very need will drive 
him to lying and cheating the poor, ignorant and 
dying, to get a few mor«e francs for his food and 
lodging. There are good priests,’ said the Mar- 
chesa, * but they are men with a vocation, who 
have not donned the gown for the sake of two 
francs a day. Che, che ! ’ said the Marchesa, ‘ the 
world must always wear shoes — make him a cal- 
zolajo,* and I will pay his fee.’ And so it was, 
Signorina, and since then I have made my way. 
I took care of my mother until the holy angels 
assumed that responsibility ; I married the 
daughter of a calzolajo of Barletta; I named my 
first boy Sandro, for the Marchese ; my second, 
Joseph, for the honored Marchesa Josepha; my 
third, Forano, from the estate; my fourth, Mar- 
chese, for want of any other name belonging to 
my patrons, and since then I have been obliged 
to cease paying my duty to the family, in naming 
my children for them, simply because there were 
twice as many children as names.” . 

The Marchesa was certainly a good friend 
to you,” said Honor, rising to leave the shop. 


* A shoemaker. 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 51 

“I hope your children are all quite well, and 
their good mother also.” 

“Well enough, Signorina, grazie. But I have 
sent Sandro to Firenze,* in care of a vetturino, 
to inquire after my wife’s brother. He went there 
as a journeyman calzolajo in the Piazza San 
Marco, and we have heard that he has fallen 
in with some Vaudois, and is becoming he- 
retical.” 

“And you would think that very evil, Ser. 
Jacopo ? ” 

“ It would be very dangerous, Signorina, and 
people like ourselves, who stand well with the 
authorities, had better not risk anything. See 
what heresy has done for the Vaudois.” 

“ Yes, truly many of them have died for it. 
They must, therefore, believe it. What if their 
views should be true? I suppose, then, Ser. 
Jacopo, you feel it right that Vaudois should be 
outcasts ? ” 

Ser. Jacopo glanced about, lowered his voice. 
*‘Ecco, t Signorina, I cannot forget that the 
Vaudois are our Italian brothers. I’d much 
rather have the Vaudois than Austrians, and the 


* Florence. 


f Behold ! 


52 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Marchesa always held all persecution to be 
wrong. Cospetto,* what can one do ? Only the 
best that one can. I have sent Sandro to bid 
brother Nanni f come and work with me, and 
avoid danger.” 

** Good-day, then, Jacopo. I hope God will 
guide you and yours.” 

“ Felicissima notte, Signorina ! May all the 
saints protect you.” 

Honor did not turn toward the Palazzo Bor- 
gosoia, but down the Corso, to a substantial 
dwelling, which served as a church and parson- 
age for a congregation of British subjects, who 
worshipped God under the protection of their 
own flag, and were closely watched lest they 
should do any proselyting. When Honor was 
admitted by the front door of this dwelling, she 
saw a room opposite open, and the minister 
seated at a table. Before him stood a priest of 
some thirty years old, who seemed in the height 
of passion. As Honor followed the servant up- 
stairs to the drawing-room in the piano nobiky 
she heard the priest thus : 

“You are not ashamed to say, to teach, that 


* Look! •}• The usual contraction of Giovanni, ox John. 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


53 


we are saved wholly by grace through faith, 
without aid of our good works ? Infamous 
fellow, ten thousand times infamous! I will 
meet you, refute you — ” 

The closing of the drawing-room door shut 
out the priest’s voice. Mrs. Polwarth presently 
entered, and the first thing was to discuss 
Michael. 

Very likely some of your servants know 
more about him than they admit, and are trading, 
for his support, on his beauty and your gener- 
osity,” said Mrs. Polwarth. “ These Italians are 
very artful.” 

“At least, I shall have the advantage of in- 
structing him, and he seems a bright child. As 
long as I call him my protege, and provide for 
him, there will be one Italian whom I can evan- 
gelize without let or hindrance,” replied Honor. 

“That is one comfort,” said Mrs. Polwarth. 
“ Do you know that little room which we hired 
for the Vaudois school, and paid for in advance, 
has been taken away on pretense of some flaw, 
and we lose all our rent after one week’s occu- 
pation.” 

“ Oh, really ! I would appeal to the Consul. 
That is shameful.” 


64 THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 

'^And it is the third tiqie it has happened. 
But appeal is useless ; it would only attract at- 
tention and opposition. I have taken our boxes 
out of the little room on the terremo^ and shall 
have the school there, in a little, dark, close 
place. Then our house has been watched for 
three nights, so that our class of four catechu- 
mens could not get in. If we are to evangelize 
Italy by such means as are now in hand, our 
prospect is of slow success.” 

“ This is our day of patience, of waiting, of 
small things,” said Honor, “ but by-and-by you 
will see the great and effectual door opened, and 
great things will be done for us, whereof our- 
souls shall be glad. There is even now some 
fruit.” 

“And very poor fruit, I assure you. To-day 
I feel discouraged. We have news that a priest 
whom we thought converted and got off to 
England, is leading an idle,, dissolute life. In 
the number of years we have spent here, we have • 
aided the escape of three priests and a nun, and - 
not one of them has turned out well,” said 
Mrs. Polwarth mournfully. 

“And yet you would continue to teach, and 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


55 


send to England thos^-who professed to be con- 
verts, and must escape for their lives.” 

Why, certainly ; to do the work we find is 
our business, the event is for God,” said Mrs. 
Polwarth. 

* “And you are only now complaining that 
God has not properly managed the event,” said 
Honor, quietly. 

“ Thank you, I see ; I will not distress myself 
about God’s part in the work. Besides one true 
convert would pay for all our disappointment ; 
look at a De Sanctis.” 

1 

Dr. Polwarth coming in caught the last word. 
“ The Padre Innocenza, with whom I have just 
parted, is far from being a De Sanctis : he is in 
a white hot fury. Would be glad to imprison 
or assassinate me, and debarred those privileges, 
is about to destroy me in a controversy.” 

“ Oh, by no means ! ” cried Mrs. Polwarth; “ a 
public controversy would awake hostility enough 
to ruin our work here. Though you defeated 
your opponent, you would be still more defeated 
yourself. Besides, I thought it was against 
canon law for priests to enter into controversy.” 

“ But this is to be a private controversy, on 


56 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


paper, my dear ; and as for canon law, it is not 
my affair if Padre Innocenza disregards it : he 
is a priest from the hills,- some miles from the 
city. I am to write my views, and he is pre- 
pared triumphantly to refute them, and reduce 
me to contempt.” 

“I would have nothing to do with it,” said 
Mrs. Polwarth, “ he will garble your paper and 
publish its distorted form to your detriment.” 

“ Nevertheless,” said the doctor, after a short 
consideration, ‘‘I think I will enter into the 
matter, and leave the Lord to protect the expo- 
sition of my faith. You see, the proposal is, 
that I give him a statement of the doctrines I 
hold; and the reasons or proofs thereof. Now 
that gives me opportunity to preach to the poor 
young man a full gospel, such a thing as he 
has never heard in his life. Perhaps for this 
very end God has sent him to me, boiling over 
as he is with rage ; and taking my letter to con- 
tradict it, he may be led by it to the light. 
Yes, I shall write a full, careful, scriptural letter 
on faith in Christ Jesus, and asking God’s bless- 
ing on it, may get my answer of peace after 
many days.’* 


THE MYSTERIOUS BOY. 


57 


Dr. Polwarth now turned his attention to 
Michael, and declared him to be a Greek. To ^ 
prove his point he sent for a young Greek who 
lodged in an opposite attic, who might converse 
with the boy in his native tongue, and solve the 
mystery of his appearance and parentage. The 
Greek was accordingly brought over. Michael 
listened gravely to his discourse, laughed me- 
lodiously, and comprehended not a word. 

Mrs. Polwarth then went out to walk with 
Honor. On the pier they met a turbaned Turk, 
who had carried his square of carpet thither to 
say his sunset prayers. When his devotions 
were finished, Mrs. Polwarth begged him to 
speak to Michael. The Turk did so; the boy 
shook his head, and repeated the three words 
he had learned, lady,” please ” and “ grazie.” 


CHAPTER III. 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 

• “ How sweet are thy words unto my taste ! yea, sweeter than 
honey to my mouth ! ” 

W HEN Jacopo had started his son Sandro 
toward Firenze on an admonitory mission 
to his Uncle Nanni, the lad was in a state of high 
delight, the weather was charming, the vetturino 
was almost sure to drive very slowly, and to 
the boy of fourteen, who had never been five 
miles from home, a trip to the Tuscan capital 
was a glorious event. Leaving his father about 
four o’clock, Sandro in less than three hours 
stopped for - the night in a little hillside village, 
where the vetturino had a relative. After supper 
and a chat by the wood fire, in which country 
people indulge, and which amazed Sandro by 
its prodigality, the boy wrapped himself in his 
father’s great cloak, lined with fur, and lay down 

to sleep among the parcels in the vetturino’s cart, 
( 58 ) 


SER. JACOPO AND BIS FRIENDS. 69 

having no canopy above him but the sky, which 
he saw through a breathing-hole which he had 
left for himself in the folds of his cloak. Sandro 
had very little on his mind. His father had 
bidden him keep his especial mission to Uncle 
Nanni from the ears of strangers, and his message 
to his relative was short and simple — merely 
to come to his loving sister, and forget Vaudois. 
As for the Vaudois, Sandro had heard of them 
in school, and considered them a sort of cross 
between the dragon which fought with St 
Michael and Monacello — the goblin of the 
Italian nursery, so that the little rascal was very 
glad of the existence of the Vaudois, -else there 
would have been no occasion for his journey to 
Firenze. 

The next day the cart, drawn by its strong, 
mouse-colored, sure-footed mules, still wound 
slowly along hill and level, the driver walking 
beside his favorite mule and Sandro lagging be- 
hind, both gossiping with every man, woman 
and child that met them, and tarrying long be- 
fore every drogheria and village albergo. Even- 
ing found them again in a mountain hamlet, 
supping on wine, black bread and sausages in a 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


small tavern. As they sat thus the door opened 
and a keen, handsome face looked in. The face 
was set off by a velvet smoking-cap with blue 
embroidery and tassel. Sandro’s back was to- 
ward the door, and as the newcomer saw only 
three or four villagers, a heavy-faced vetturino 
and a boy, he considered it safe to come in ; he 
threw by his green cloak, seated himself with a 
lordly air at the table, and called for sausages 
and a bottle of wine. The sound of his voice 
diverted Sandro from his supper. 

“Ecco! are you here, Ser. Gulio? This is 
rather out of your way to the Forano villa. 
And you have sold your olive oil, then ? I hope 
you made a good bargain. Why you stare at 
me as if you didn’t know me ; you remember 
I saw you in my father’s shop two days ago. 
He met you in the street and brought you in 
about some slippers.” 

** Cospetto ! how boys do gabble now-a-days,” 
said Gulio, testily. “Yes, Ser. Sandro, I re- 
member you ; and davvero, I could not be per- 
mitted to forget you if I wished. As to being 
out of my way, pray what brought here?’' 

“ Oh, I am going to visit my uncle,” said the 


SER, JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 61 

sharp little Italian ; “ that is only a nephew’s 
duty, I suppose.” 

^‘And I,” said Gulio, quickly, “have just been 
to visit my aunt — that is only a nephew’s duty, 
I suppose — and I shall be at the Villa Forano 
I to-morrow, and deliver the slippers.” 

(The ubiquitous Gulio, who certainly had 
never been to Elba, since he ostensibly sailed 
for that island, did indeed deliver the slippers to 
the Marchesa, telling her he had received them 
from Sandro at a wayside inn.) 

“ Ha, Ser. Vetturino, you are already nod- 
ding,” cried Gulio. 

“ Si, si. Signore, it is very troublesome work 
driving mules all day.” 

“ But not such a troublesome thing as to have 
soldiers quartered at your casetta,”* said one 
of the villagers. 

“ I wonder what is the most troublesome thing 
in the world,” said Sandro ; and then the talk 
became general, some suggesting one thing and 
some another. Gulio, who had disposed of two 
bottles of wine almost in two draughts, authori- 


6 


Cottage. 


62 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

tatively remarked that to take an oath was the 
most troublesome thing. 

I have made two in my life,” said Gulio : 
“ one to a priest, one to a woman, and truly I 
have grown thin under the obligations imposed, 
for they were oaths exactly contrary to each 
other.” 

“ Then you broke that one you made to the 
priest,” said Sandro. 

“No, no; the one made to the woman; that 
would be less a sin,” said the now wakeful 
vetturino. 

‘"A chi lo dice!* I kept them both,” said 
Gulio. “ It is the one thing which I dare not 
do, is to break an oath.” 

“To keep them must have been the most 
difficult thing in the world,” said the innkeeper. 

And then the irrepressible Sandro, anxious 
for information,- asked what was the most dif- 
ficult thing in the world. Gulio might have 
given as his experience, “ To speak the truth,” 
but he had never even made an effort in that 
line. He had early made up his mind that per- 

* To whom do you speak ? Used as an exclamation ; as we 
say, “ What do you mean ? 


S£Ii. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 63 

feet safety would best be secured by never tell- 
ing the truth ; but by telling lies in a perfectly 
truthful manner, keeping his own counsel, Gulio 
was accepted as a thoroughly reliable person by 
all who knew him. It never occurred to him to 
laugh at his dupes, nor to plume himself on his 
own sharpness. He merely considered that it 
was well for him to deceive, and for everybody 
to be deceived. Following these, his principles 
of action, Gulio appeared next day at the Villa 
Forano, stating that his aunt was dead, and 
that he had remained to bury her! Indeed,, 
he had heard from one of the boatmen that 
the old woman was very ill, and a few weeks 
after, by some circuitous means, he heard of 
her death. 

All these wanderings and falsehoods had 
been used for what? Merely to cover a hasty 
visit of Gulio to a chestnut-wooded, purple 
mountain north of Firenze, where he took the 
little Michael from a solitary deaf and dumb 
woman, who lived by gathering nuts and fagots 
and knitting hose. Gulio had given this woman 
some silver, descended to the sea by way of 
Pisa, where he procured the child’s carnival cos- 


64 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


tume and a boat, and thence he had departed in 
a fishing vessel. When he reached the Villa 
Forano, and laid aside his gala costume for the 
plain garb of a vine-dresser, he took from his 
purse half a franc. It was the very last money 
remaining of a sum which Judith Forano had 
given him five years before, when he was about 
to act as her courier in her journey to London. 
Gulio turned it over and over. 

“It shall never be spent,” he said. “I will 
keep it to show that I have fulfilled the oaths I 
made to a priest and to a woman, and to warn 
me never to make another.” 

He drilled a hole in the bit of silver, and hung 
it about his neck with a silken cord. 

While Gulio was thus occupied, Sandro en- 
tered Firenze, and made his way to the shop on 
the Piazzo San Marco, where his uncle worked. 
A slender, fair-complexioned young man, with 
a kindly honesty in his face and a grave sincer- 
ity in his air, that made him the very opposite 
of the acute Gulio, Nanni Conti was busily peg- 
ging a shoe when his little nephew looked in at 
the door of the bottega. 

“Hey! Can that be Sandro!” cried Nanni, 


SEU. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 65 

as a shadow fell over his work. “ Has any evil 
befallen mia sorella ? ” * 

“We are all well, Uncle Nanni, but my father 
thought I had better visit you and get a look at 
the world," said the boy, casually regarding 
the workers in the shop. “ Nevertheless, uncle, 
I have some news from home such as that we 
have yet another brother duly christened Paulo 
by Father Zucchi, in the Duomo, and perhaps, if 
you are not too busy, we might walk about the 
piazzo while I answer all your questions." 

Nanni laid aside the shoe, took off his leath- 
ern apron, and donned his cap. Sandro was 
looking very important, and leading the way 
from the shop the lad glanced quickly about and 
directed his steps to the open door of the little 
church of San Marco. The front of this church 
is only a hundred years old, but the remainder 
of the building dates from the thirteenth cen- 
tury, and is historic. Here Fra Savonarola 
preached, flashing upon the city a day-beam, 
which .presently perished in a- deepening night 
of persecution. Here Fra Angelico dreamed of 
angels, and painted them — creations of singular 

* My sister. 

6* E 


66 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

beauty, but unfortunately with gold platters be- 
hind their heads. Here also Fra Bartolommeo 
had enrapturing visions, and contributed them 
to the world of art. To the right of the en- 
trance door is one of Bartolommeo’s pictures — 
a Virgin enthroned. A few people were scat- 
tered about the chapel praying, and Sandro, 
seeing no one near the Virgin, sat down beneath 
the picture, first making it a reverence, and mo- 
tioned his uncle to a place beside him. 

‘‘The fact is. Uncle Nanni,” said the young 
ambassador, “my father has sent me on an er- 
rand which is not for strange ears. He has 
heard that you have fallen in with Vaudois (the 
boy crossed himself), and he says these are days 
when it is well to let heresy alone. He says no 
friends would stir for you as for the Madai, 
whoever they were, and it would go far to break 
my mother’s heart if you were put in prison. 
Your old father at Barletta will not be the worse 
for seeing you, and you must not bring grief to 
his gray hairs. Moreover, our shop and home 
are yours, and my father wants you to return 
with me.” 

“And what, Sandro, are Vaudois?” asked 
Nanni, quietly. 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 67 

“Why, uncle,” said Sandro, puzzled now that 
he was beyond the limits of his instructions, “ a 
Vaudois is — a — a something that destroys the 
souls of young infants like my new brother, and 
blasphemes most terribly.” 

“And do you think, mio Sandro, that I would 
be with such a people as that?” asked Nanni, 
looking kindly at him. 

“Why no, uncle; now that I think of it such 
evil seems quite impossible to you.” 

“ I hope so,” said Nanni. “ Instead of grow- 
ing worse I strive to grow better. But you do 
well to speak of my old father. I was just 
'fhinking of going to Barletta. You will like to 
stop here to-day and to-morrow, to rest and see 
the sights, and then I will go with you to your 
father. If we make good traveling comrades 
perhaps he will let you go with me to Barletta.” 

Sandro was enraptured with this proposal and 
he and his uncle soon left the church. The 
boy did not fail to make a reverence toward 
the tabernacle, but he did not notice that his 
uncle neglected.both this and the holy water. 

In the afternoon Sandro was sent, with a boy 
of his own age, to see some of the piazzas and 


68 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


bridges, and in the evening his uncle told him 
that he was going to meet some friends and 
would be glad of his company. 

The night had fallen when Sandro and his 
uncle stumbled along the almost unlighted, nar- 
row streets of Florence. Here and there a lamp 
or two burned dimly at some street-corner 
shrine (invariably a Virgin): the markets had 
closed, but the wine-shops were open and 
crowded, and in the restaurants many men 
could be seen playing at dice at little tables. 
Nanni finally rung a bell by a great archway, 
and was admitted to . a narrow court. He 
crossed this and knocked at a door. 

**Chi e?”* said a voice within. 

Amici,” responded Nanni. 

Now any enemy might have answeredy^?>//^.y, 
but the word seemed talismanic, for the door 
opened and admitted them to a dull, small, bare 
room, lighted by several dim oil-lamps. Half a 
dozen more amici ” swelled the numbers 
present to thirteen. All shook hands, and 
seemed friends indeed, and Sandro was kindly 
greeted by each one. An old man then opened 


*« Who’s there? 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 69 

a little book and read for a long time, stopping 
to answer questions, to make remarks, or listen 
to the remarks of others. All seemed so easy 
and home-like, and the reading was so delightful 
that Sandro, never a timid youth, made bold at 
last to speak out. 

''Will you tell me the name of that book 
which has. such beautiful stories of Ser. Jesus?’*' 
I can read a bit, and would like to have one." 

There was a little stir through the room. 
The aged reader sighed deeply. 

" My son, it is the Evangel.” 

" My father shall get me one,” said Sandro, 
confidently. 

" God grant it,” said the voice of Uncle Nanni 
in his ear. 

There was a little girl present, also a young 
infant in arms; and after a time the old man 
read a very lovely story of the Lord blessing 
children, and a young man, kneeling down, 
prayed very fervently for the young children 
present, for the babe, for the girl, for the 

* “ Ser. Jesus ” is the ordinary way of the Italian speaking 
of the Lord Jesus. The prefix “ Ser.” strikes a reverent for- 
eigner unpleasantly. 


70 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

** strange bambino,” to be kept in life and re- 
ceived at last to heaven. Sandro’s eyes filled 
with tears, it was all so pathetic and so beautiful. 

“ Oh, Uncle Nanni ! ” cried Sandro when they 
were returning home, “ what very nice friends 
you have ! Who are those people?” 

Sandro,” said Nanni, “ I see that you are a 
lad who can keep his own counsel. Say nothing 
to any one about these people, and I will tell 
you the whole secret in a month’s time.” 

Sandro had spent a Sabbath, in his coming to 
Firenze — your Catholic Italian is oblivious of the 
command which begins “ Remember.” 

On Wednesday Sandro and Nanni set out on 
their journey, and on Thursday evening their en- 
trance- after a brisk trip, brought joy to the 
home of Sen Jacopo. 

The calzolajo regarded the prompt arrival of 
his brother-in-law under his Catholic roof as an 
evidence that he was amenable to instruction, 
and concluded that it might be best to ignore 
altogether his reported derelictions toward 
heresy, and simply keep him out of harm’s way 
for the future. Therefore while Mona Lisa, his 
wife, fried an omelette in honor of her brother 
and son, Jacopo said : 


SEI^. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 71 

I take it kind, Nantii, that you have come 
to help me ; my man does not please me, and I 
have work for two. Besides, it is well for rela- 
tives to keep close together.” 

^‘Thanks, brother Jacopo; that will be as 
time shows best. My father is aged, as you 
say. I was thinking of going to Barletta when 
Sandro came to Firenze. I will now visit the 
parents and afterwards return to you.” 

That may be well,” said Jacopo, but it is 
time you settled in life, if you would lay up a 
few lire for old age.” 

I am intent on making a sure provision for 
my future,” said Nanni. '‘You will have a fine 
band of sons about your old age, Jacopo. 
Sandro is well grown, and he tells me he is now 
working with you in the shop.” 

"Yes,” said Jacopo, vexedly; "I kept the 
boy in school at expense for seven years to have 
him learn to read and write.” 

" He reads indifferently well, and can barely 
write his name, I find,” said Nanni. " He should 
be able to do better.” 

"Ah, the rascal, there is nothing in him,” said 
Jacopo, angrily; "many a lire I paid out for 


72 


THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 


him, and he will never he the scholar you are; 
he needs thrashing.” 

Sandro, secure from the oft-threatened, never- 
visited infliction, began grinning behind his 
father’s back, as he nursed the last baby but 
one, and Mona Lisa shook her head over the 
last baby and the omelette. Said Nanni : 

“ The boy ' seems bright ; very likely the 
teachers were at fault.” 

“Si, si, si,”* cried Jacopo; “that is it. 
Twice I went to the school for my boy, and 
each time I found the incestro asleep in his chair, 
and the boys standing on their heads and firing 
paper balls at each other. Seven years Sandro 
stayed, and the mcsstres have only taught him 
to boggle over a bit of reading, and make a 
chicken-track he calls his name! Brother 
Nanni, I desired the boy to be scrivano enough 
to make out my bills properly. Now I, being 
no clerk, must make them out on this wise. 
Perhaps you cannot read this, Nanni ? ” 

Jacopo handed the young man this hiero- 



* “ Yes, yes, yes.' 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 73 

No/’ said Nanni, after looking, “ I cannot” 

“ Let me read it to you as I do to my custom- 
ers, and then they understand it,” said Jacopo. 
“ These two strokes and the boots mean two 
pair of boots — that is surely plain, Nanni ; the 
round things are lire — read, therefore, fifty lire, 
the price of two pair of boots, evidently ; the 
open hand means that I want my money ; when 
I get it I put the shut hand, to show that I 
have it — and I think it is a neat way of express- 
ing it, Nanni ; and I put my mark as the Padre 
had me do when I was married.” 

“ But there is no name of the debtor,” said 
Nanni. 

“ That is not needed, for I give it to the man 
myself.” 

“ Well, brother Jacopo, it is truly ingenious ; 
but I think if Sandro could fairly write out 
a bill, and attend to taking receipts for you 
when you make; payments, it would give your 
shop a business-like appearance. Then if he 
could read you the newspapers handsomely in 
the shop of an evening, it would be very agree- 
able, and you would like to know what Italy and 

the \vorld are doing.” 

7 


74 THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 

“ Very true, but after seven years’ schooling, 
ecco, I am disappointed I ” 

“ Well, now, brother Jacopo, if you will let 
the boy go to Barletta with me, I will have him 
back in two months able to do all this. I will 
see to it that he can read, make out a bill, and 
sign his name properly.” 

Ser. Jacopo thought of the Vaudois, but he 
thought of the advantages offered ; besides, the 
boy would be going to his Catholic grand- 
father — to the truly Catholic town of Barletta, 
almost under il Papa's nose. And then Nanni 
— why Nanni was evidently the most decent 
young man that could be found. 

Mona Lisa put her bread, omelette and coffee 
on the table, and Ser. Jacopo said that Sandro 
should start on Monday with Nanni to visit his 
Grandfather Conti. 

‘‘And mind, my lad, if now you don’t learn to 
read, and to make me out a proper bill, then I 
will give you a thrashing ! ” 

At this promise Sandro broke into a loud fit 
of laughter. 

“ What are you laughing at ? ” demanded his 
father. 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 75 

“ Oh, to think it possible I should not learn 
of Uncle Nanni.” 

After tea Nanni read several newspapers — 
not over a month old — to his brother-in-law. 
Gradually Mona Lisa and her eight sons gath- 
ered about him. The three smaller sons fell 
asleep, one on his father’s knee, one in Sandro’s 
arms, one on Mona Lisa’s lap ; the rest sat with 
wide-open black eyes, listening while Nanni 
passed from reading the papers to reading a 
.little book which he carried in his pocket — a 
book beginning, “ Forasmuch as many have 
taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration 
of those things which are most surely believed 
among us.” The words came very appropri- 
ately among a people who had had the Gospel of 
the grace of God garbled by many generations 
of ignorant and vicious priests. Very sweetly 
flowed the Scripture story, read by the gentle 
voice of Nanni, in the melodious, many-voweled 
Italian tongue. He read three chapters very 
slowly. “Ah,” said Mona Lisa, hugging her 
baby, “ how very beautiful that is ! and how one 
feels as if the good Elizabeth and the Blessed 
Virgin were real people, not just pictures; and 


76 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

that the Sen Jesus was truly a babe like little 
Paulo." 

‘‘Dear me," said Jacopo, “would you read 
those words about ‘ low degree ’ again. This is 
truly a book for the poor, Nanni." 

• None of them thought to question if it were 
a good book ; the words had been their own 
vindication ; it did not occur to them to ask if 
the priests permitted this reading. God for the 
first time had spoken to them in his own word, 
and they received it as good, as they received 
sunshine, fresh air, cold water. There was but 
one interruption — Assunta looked in with a pair 
of slippers for mending ; it was while Nanni was 
yet reading the newspapers. “ The maiden has 
a most comely face," said Nanni. 

Early next morning Nanni and Sandro en- 
tered Jacopo’s little shop, and proceeded to set 
it in order; they then put on their leather 
aprons and sat down to work ; Nanni, an expert 
workman, taking the slippers which Assunta 
had brought, and proceeding to mend them. 
Some little time after, Jacopo came in rubbing 
his eyes. “Hey," he said, “this is like work; 
and so, Nanni, you got that sleepy boy of mine 
up?" 


. ^ 


. * / 

SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 77 

“Aye, he must rise and labor while he is with 
me ; I have a motto which he also must prac- 
tice, ‘ Not slothful in business ; fervent in spirit ; 
serving the Lord.’ ” 

“ Dawero,* I like the first part : that is good 
for a calzolajo or any other man earning a liv- 
ing; but 1 don’t underkand the second bit 
about ‘fervent,’ and as to the last, why, don’t 
that smack of heresy, Nanni ? ” 

“ ‘ Fervent in spirit,’ that means earnest, hon- 
est, single-minded, whole-hearted,” said Nanni. 

“And I take it that whatever a man does, ‘ 
whether he cobbles shoes, makes love, builds a 
house, or teaches school, he will not do it truly 
well unless he is fervent in spirit ; eh, brother 
Jacopo ? ” 

“That is so,” said Jacopo; “and if you’ll 
make my Sandro like that^ why, thank you 
heartily.” f 

“And as for the last bit of the motto, brother 
Jacopo, it would be sad indeed if to serve the 
Lord should be heresy ; to serve the Lord is 
surely the part of a good Christian.” 

“ That sounds reasonable, sure enough,” said 


7 * 


* Truly. 


78 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Jacopo; “but, Nanni, as good Catholics, we are 
all supposed to serve the Lord, just by being 
good Catholics, do you see ? and I never heard 
that any but heretics made trouble about any- 
thing further than that. So to be strenuous 
about serving the Lord seems flavored with 
heresy ; — ^but I hope you are all right, Nanni.” 

“ Now, brother Jacopo, suppose Sandro sat 
all day tapping at a shoe, and by night you 
found that he had not driven a peg, would you 
be satisfied with his seeming to work when he 
did not really do it?” asked Nanni. 

“ Not I. He had better not try that trick on 
me.” 

“Then do you think the Lord will be sat- 
isfied with any of us if we seem to be serving 
him merely by being good Catholics, and yet, 
in point of doing, we have really not served him 
at all?” 

Ser. Jacopo pondered a long time, and slowly 
shook his head. 

“ Do you ever feel, brother Jacopo, that just 
as you are here — a master in your shop — so the 
Lord is a present Master among us? — that just 
as your eye is on your workmen, his eye is on 


S£Ii. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 79 

US ? — that just as you inspect the men’s work, 
he inspects our work ? that j ust as you pay for 
what is done, so he pays us according to our 
service, for by our works we shall be justified, 
or by our works we shall be condemned ? ” 

“Such a feeling of God’s eye and presence 
would make me very uncomfortable,” said Ser. 
Jacopo, uneasily. 

“ So your presence might make an unfaithful 
workman uncomfortable, but it is none the less 
a fact. And who has a better right to be watch- 
ing and present than God, whose workshop the 
universe is ? Believe me, the only way is will- 
ingly to serve him.” 

“ Truly I am glad for one thing to hear you 
speak so, Nanni, for I have heard that Vau — 
heretics eschew good works, and I see that you 
do not, so of course you must be a good Catho- 
lic ; and indeed our priests often talk to us of 
the seven good works, but to practice them, 
Nanni : here is where you are getting ahead of 
the priests — to practice them.” 

“ I am not getting ahead of common sense,” 
persisted Nanni. 

“Ah, common sense! My Marchesa was 


80 THE OATH KEEPER OF FORANO. 

particularly strong on common sense. And 
what you say does look reasonable ! ” 

The reasonableness of Nanni’s speech seemed 
to impress Jacopo, for about the middle of the 
morning he flung by a boot-leg which he was 
stitching, exclaiming : 

“ Nanni, I cannot get out of my head what 
you said : that, in effect, I might go tap, tap, 
tapping, in mass, and vespers, and confession, 
and all that, and never drive .a peg of real 
serving of God in all my life. Hard lines that, 
Nanni.” 

“ But if it is true,'' said Nanni, doggedly. 

“Altro ! Do you tell me, Nanni, that God is 
in this shop ? ” 

“Your existence is the proof. Could you ex- 
ist where God was not, to keep you in being ? 
do you make your own heart beat ? ” 

“And does he know that this is second- 
quality leather which I am putting in this boot- 
leg?” 

“ Surely, Jacopo, having made yozir mind he 
knows as much as you do ! ” 

“And you think he heard me promise first- 
quality ? ” 


SER. JACOPO AND HIS FRIENDS. 81 

Having made your ears he is not likely to 
be deaf,” said Nanni. 

“ Well,” said Jacopo, picking up his work. 
I’m very sorry, but if I don’t use this leather I 
lose two lire and my time. Your doctrines 
are too hard for me, Nanni. I’ve heard Father 
Zucchi preach on the seven goodly works, and 
seven times seven, for all I know, and he never 
disturbed me about my leather.” 

Nanhi worked o;i placidly. Jacopo retained 
an injured air for some time, indeed until that 
sharp Sandro demanded : 

Father, shall I practice what Uncle Nanni 
teaches, by putting in my best work for you ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly. If you make the shoes well 
I can charge full ten centesimi more a pair; so 
you see Uncle Nanni’s rule proves good there, 
and ought to be followed ; but it proves bad for 
me, and ought not, in my case, to be followed. 
If I lose two lire so easily, how will I provide 
for a wife and eight sons? You should think 
of that, Nanni.’^ 

Nanni remained until Monday with Jacopo. 
Every day but Sabbath he worked diligently in 
the shop. Meanwhile Monna Lisa was busy 


82 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

making Sandro a new shirt, and completing a 
handkerchief and a pair of socks, which he was 
to take as gifts for her old parents. Jacopo, 
greatly pleased with his brother-in-law’s work, 
his attention to the shop, and the interest he 
showed in all the business, strongly urged him 
to return and live with him. “ I will pay you 
more than another would,” he said. Nanni 
would make no promises until he had been to 
Barletta. 

Sabbath morning found Ser. Jacopo a little 
later in rising than usual. His shop was not 
opened when he came down, and Nanni had left 
the house. 

“ He has gone to mass,” said Ser. Jacopo. 
“ I would go, too, if I had time ; but here are 
these shoes to heel, and the rip to sew in Ser. 
Francini’s boot, which I vowed to send home 
last night ; and I must go with these gaiters and 
get my money.” 

An Italian artisan makes a point of never 
getting through his work on Saturday night, 
but leaves odds and ends of business enough to 
occupy all Sabbath morning. However, if his 
wife and children get occasionally to mass, if he 


SER. JACOPO AND BIS FRIENDS. 83 

himself pays his dues, and confesses before 
Easter, his priest is quite satisfied. 

As Nanni was not working for pay, Jacopo 
could not complain of his taking a holiday, 
although the young man did not return until 
night. 

If we had followed Nanni on this Sabbath we 
should have found him climbing to the “ piano, 
quarto ” (or fourth story above the ground) of a 
house in a poor street ; thence he issued, some 
two hours after, with a young man, and being 
joined in the street by two others, they walked 
up the great Strada Mare, or seaside road, and 
at a little distance from the town turned aside to 
the rocky coast, and finally established them- 
selves in a snug nook under an overhanging 
cliff. People seeing them from a distance might 
have supposed them playing cards or dice, or 
idly basking in the sun. They had their bread 
and cheese with them, and remained here all day. 
All this Sabbath Nanni Conti was learning the 
way of God more perfectly from his Vaudois 
brethren. 


CHAPTER IV. 


• ALONG THE ROAD. 

“ Instead of funeral torches 
The sun above our tomb 
Keeps watch in changeless radiance ; 

Here rose and violet bloom, 

With vine and olive mingled 
Shall twine a mourning wreath : 

O, lovely graveyard that might make 
The living covet death ! ” 

— Tuscan poe77i^ ^'•The Land of the DeadT 



OTHING could be more delightful than 


the season in which Nanni and Sandro 
made their journey to Barletta. It was for the 
most part a pedestrian tour — not that public 
conveyances both of railway and diligence were 
lacking, nor were the travelers quite unable to 
pay for them : but both were strong, and ex- 
pected to enjoy the trip made in their own 
fashion. Sandro secretly anticipated adven- 
tures, and Nanni had a reason of his own for 


( 84 ) 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


85 


preferring to walk southward over hill and val- 
ley, stopping to converse with wayfarers such as 
himself, and at night entering' the country inn 
or the lonely cabin. The spring comes in Italy 
with face more beautiful than beauty, and prodi- 
gal with flowers ; the grass, which has been fresh 
all winter, takes a richer tint ; the olive assumes 
a brighter green under its silver gray ; the well- 
trimmed vines swell with purple buds; white 
and purple anemones, golden crocus, gay cin- 
quefoil, blue violets and celandine, and rosy 
cranesbill weave a rich embroidery over every 
sod; each distance melts into amethyst, while 
nearer space lies flooded with molten gold. 

One while our travelers walked by the shore 
of that great sea around which history has re- 
peated itself, until the very refrain of its waters 
seems to come to us The thing that hath been 
is the thing that shall be ”) as they lap in low 
music at the feet ; again they clambered the hills 
where figs and vines and olives yielded to chest- 
nut, and these to pine. They passed through 
the doleful, blasted Maremma, whose fatal ma- 
laria now slept, to rise in mists of death under 

a summer’s sun. Nanni and Sandro, looking 
8 


86 THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 

at the Mediterranean, had no memories of an- 
cient fables, no dreams of Trojan fleets, no 
thought of the ships of Carthage, nor of the 
Roman galleys ; so when they passed through 
the Maremma they had no musings of days 
when this unhappy spot bloomed like God’s 
own garden ; of mysterious races who here 
reared mighty cities, which have left but crum- 
bling walls to mock research, or low foundations 
of palaces which, like their masters, have died 
out of the memory of a world. Sandro’s heart, 
boy-like, was filled with vague dreams of the 
future; Nanni pondered that sleep like death 
into which his countrymen had been paralyzed 
by the poison of the giant Superstition; he 
looked up to the cloudless skies and longed to 
behold, as the seer, that mighty angel flying 
between earth and heaven, bearing the ever- 
lasting Gospel — an open Bible. He thought 
of the dead indifference of most of his nation, 
inaccessible to any consideration but oi lire ^ or 
the struggling visions of a half-understood free- • 
dom. The voice came to him, “ Can these 
bones live ? ” His soul replied, “ O Lord, thou 
knowest ! ” 


ALONG THE ROAD. 87 

Thus pondered Nanni, traveling through the 
Maremma in 1 860. The world hastens its work 
in these days ; Nanni was to live to see the dry 
bones come together, and flesh and sinews laid 
upon them,^and a divine breath blowing from the 
four quarters of heaven, and the long prostrate, 
scattered and destroyed sons of Italy standing 
up, an exceeding great army. If Nanni could 
have foreseen this when he trod, staff in hand and 
wallet on back, through the damp Maremma, his 
step would have grown lighter than Sandro’s ; 
had he seen what was to befall himself before 
that day his heart would have died. 

It is thus God leads his people, by a way 
which they know not, to fulfill his will. Nanni, 
and many another humble pupil of the Vaudois, 
had, half unconsciously, a mission to Italy — 
forerunners of the evangel of liberty — not less 
busy and sincere than Gavazzi, and Garibaldi, 
and Cavour in their loftier sphere. 

Nanni and Sandro sat often by the wayside to 
rest, and had, also, each day an hour for their 
noontide meal. Tl^iese intervals Nanni devoted 
to fulfilling his promise to Jacopo about im- 
proving the education of his son. The Gospel 


88 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

of Luke, a newspaper, and a small slate were 
Nanni’s instruments. He tutored his nephew 
carefully in reading, drilling him well even on 
the advertisement columns. On the slate he 
speedily reduced that “ chicken track ” whereof 
Ser. Jacopo complained, to a legible signature, 
wherein Sandro greatly gloried. Then did 
Nanni also exercise his pupil on making out a 
bill. What innumerable pairs of slippers at five 
lire a pair, shoes at twelve lire, boots at twenty- 
five lire, tapping, footing, heeling, and soleing, at 
various prices, did Nanni dictate, making goodly 
bills, which Sandro must set down, compute the 
total, and write ‘‘ Received payment,” etc. ; and 
then were the changes rung on boots and shoes, 
lire, centesimi, slippers, and cobbling, in a 
manner to make glad the heart of Ser. Jacopo. 
But Nanni had deeper lessons than these. He 
poured into his young comrade’s ear Bible 
history like a pleasant tale. The apostles, and 
prophets, and holy families, which Sandro had 
known as pictures in church, became to him 
elder brethren, ensamples to the flock, sons of 
God without rebuke, followers of that Christ 
of whom Nanni had learned as a present Saviour. 


ALONG THE ROAD, 


89 


The Dame Vaudois had been prudently- 
avoided, like a contagion, by Sen Jacopo ; but 
Sandro was less cautious ; when it occurred to 
his mind he spoke freely: 

“ I am glad, uncle, that you are not a Vau- 
dois. Vaudois, the maestro told me, deny the 
Virgin and the Apostles, and reject the Lord 
Jesus, and devour young children.” 

“It is quite idle for a boy of your age to 
believe that any Italians devour young chil- 
dren,” said Nanni. “ Did your maestro never tell 
you of the cardinal virtue of charity ? ” 

“Charity! Well, perhaps he did; but he did 
not know one-half so nice things as you do 
about the Holy Family and Sen Jesus.” 

[Here Sandro discerns between the Jesus of 
the Gospel and the Bambino of the Holy 
Family as presented by his church.] 

“ If the maestro taught you, as he should, of 
charity, he would have told you that we should 
not condemn unheard, that we should know of 
a man’s faith from his own mouth before we 
call him either a cannibal or an infidel. Delay 
your judgment on the Vaudois until you know 

about them.” 

8 * 


90 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

The Gospel of Luke was not opened for 
Sandro’s benefit only. Often did the boy, as he 
was prancing along the road, now scaling a wall, 
now climbing a tree, now delaying to lie on a 
green bank, see his uncle in deep converse with 
some wayfarer, and mark how he frequently re- 
ferred to his little book, or stood on the road 
reading whole chapters. 

Frequently at those wayside shrines — ever 
erected to the Virgin in Italy — did Nanni pause 
when he saw some devotee at prayers, and when 
the form was concluded a few kindly words 
would draw from the talkative Italians the 
thought of the heart, and Nanni would bring 
some balm for their griefs, some encouragement 
for their distress, they knew not how. 

In the evenings at their lodging places Nanni 
was soon the centre of the group of travelers 
or villagers gathered about the fire. He did not 
seem to put himself forward, but somehow ques- 
tions were addressed to him, and his answers 
enlisted attention. Besides, Nanni had been in 
scenes of interest. “You saw our volunteers 
march out to help the Piedmontese?” “You 
were in the Piazza Sta. Croce when the Duke’s 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


91 


troops fired on unarmed citizens ? ” “ Cospetto ! 
you were in Firenze when the Grand Duke 
found, last twenty-seventh of April, that he was 
no longer wanted in Tuscany. Hah! did not 
the flower of cities bloom like her own roses 
when she had cast out the destroyer from her 
heart ? ’’ Ecco I the Austrians in the garden 
of Italy were as II Diavolo in the Garden of 
Eden.” “And how fares it in Firenze now? 
We shall all talk liberta under Vittorio Emman- 
uelo, I hope. Are the Italians not men, that 
they must be gagged when their opinion is yet 
in their throat — and yet Englishmen can bawl 
out what they please, and the Americans are 
forever boasting of liberty ?' But they say all is 
to be free, even religion I Trust me. I don’t 
believe that ; the padres and frates will look to 
that ! Not to have religion free is their living. 
If religion were free we should all fly away from 
them fast enough I ” “ Che, che,” said another, 

“ we were well enough off under the Grand 
Duke. And now under the king, trust me, we 
shall have greater taxes, and not half the chance 
for smuggling I ” 

So the peasants talked among the hills when 


92 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 


first fair Tuscany had taken her place under the 
Italian monarchy. The few months since this 
change of government had not sufficed to en- 
franchise opinion; the priests held their terrors 
over the people; the Tuscans, for the most part, 
were cautious of committing themselves, lest the 
fair promise of freedom siiould melt like the airy 
fabric of some morning vision, and leave them 
once more in the power of their tyrants. 

As the travelers approached the Estates of 
the Church, the influence of the clergy- — the 
doubts they engendered about the liberal Gov- 
ernment, and the hostility to the idea of religious 
toleration — became more marked. Near Orbe- 
tello, Nanni turned into the hills, and ascend- 
ing by an unfrequented road gained a little 
casetta, where, after a private conference with 
the owner, who was cutting firewood, they 
were very cordially received and given the best 
place by the hearth. The only inhabitants of 
this house were an aged man and his wife; 
people of larger frame and greater physical vigor 
than is common to the dwellers of Italian cities ; 
they possessed also an unusual intelligence. 
Their hut, for it was little more, was beautifully 


ALONG THE ROAD. 93 

clean; the evening meal was well prepared; their 
speech was the pure Tuscan of Firenze. Sandro, 
being very weary, fell asleep, after a hearty sup- 
per, on a mat by the fire; the old man and 
woman drew their chairs on either side of 
Nanni, and bent forward in eager converse. 
Said the old man: 

'‘Then you really think that the days of our 
people’s mourning are ended ? that the sea of 
blood has ebbed out of the Piedmontese valleys 
forever ? that the last persecution has spent its 
force? I was, as you know, a servant of the 
good Count Guicciardini, On the 7th of May, 
1851, my dear master was preparing for depar- 
ture to England. He was reading the 15 th of St. 
John, with seven friends, when suddenly the 
gensdarmes rushed upon them. I was listening 
to the reading, standing in the doorway, and 
dashing past la polizia I hid in a closet under 
the stairs, while my dear master and his friends 
were carried off to the filthy Bargello. The 
Count had for two years been holding religious 
meetings, and my wife and I were by him 
brought to know Christ. It was but a small 
thing, to show my gratitude, that I did when I 


94 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORAHO. 

aided in scattering his Confession through Italy 
while he was in exile. You cannot remember 
how the Papal party raged at that. I was sus- 
pected — alas ! through my sister, who was ques- 
tioned in the confessional — and being in danger 
of the galleys I fled to the Maremma. My wife 
lay six weeks in the Bargello, but being dis- 
missed .she joined me here. What has been the 
dismal history of persecution since then ? The 
Madai were seized in 1852; dear Cechetti was 
imprisoned in 1855. And now, after all this, can 
Bibles be read, and bought and sold, in Tuscany? 
can evangplical schools be opened ? can people 
gather to hear the truth without being fallen on 
by gensdarmes? Ah, if that hour comes, my 
wife and I will return to Firenze, to see the sal- 
vation of God in the city where to be an Evan- 
gelical was worse than to be a thief!” 

“And from a place where you may hope to 
labor in peace, my son, you go to Barletta, 
where, if you speak the truth, the enemies of 
the Gospel will oppose you?” said the old 
woman. 

“ Remember,” said Nanni, “ that my own aged 
parents are yet in darkness. I go to bring glad 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


95 


tidings to their last days. And, good Monna, 
I am sure that hereafter we have in Italy no 
persecution to fear beyond the hard word, the 
bitter slander, the aversion, the petty spite and 
private malice, which will melt away as our 
lives prove our good intentions.” 

Monna Marie shook her head. 

Be not too sanguine, my son. We had once 
a liberal Pope, liberal until — he was Pope ; no 
longer. Intolerance will not die easily here in 
Italy.” 

I have had visions of him — that smiling man 
of sin,” said the aged cottager. “ I live alone here 
in the forest and ponder until strange visions 
come to me; and I see him filling full the meas- 
ure of the evil of the line of pontiffs. How I 
cannot see; perhaps by some deluge of blood 
over the Italian fields; * perhaps by some new 
pretense which shall, by its arrogance, draw 
down the long slumbering wrath of God ! ” , 

The old man shook his head and fixed his 
eyes on space. His wife touched Nanni’s elbow: 

“ He sees visions! ” 

The patriarch turned suddenly toward Nanni. 

There is a Capuchin friar in Barletta; I 


96 THE OATH KEEPER OF FORANO. 

know him; he has eaten of my bread. I see 
him pursuing you, my son: I know not why. 
Alas ! so ever have the friars been on the track 
of God’s sons.” 

Monna Marie looked awed ; the old man still 
meditated; ten years in those lonely wooded 
hills had set a mysterious mark on the pair. 
Presently the patriarch arose slowly, and just as 
slowly lifted his arms above his head ; his white 
hair and beard met as masses of snow, his eyes 
burned as he stretched himself upward, and the 
green baize cloak in which he was habitually 
wrapped fell from his gaunt shoulders, his stature 
seemed something gigantic. 

The day comes ! ” he cried, “ the day comes 
when I shall stand and proclaim the free Gospel 
of my Lord under the gates of the Vatican! 
The day comes when I shall give Bibles to the 
guards at St. Angelo ! The day comes when I 
shalj distribute tracts on the steps of the Lateran I 
These things I have asked of God, and he will 
answer me.” 

“ Woe is me, then,” said Monna Marie, tears 
stealing over her wrinkled cheeks, “for if you 
do these things, mio amico, you will burn like 
Fra Savonarola! ” 


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ALONG THE ROAD. 


97 


The next morning Monna Marie was early- 
astir, preparing of her best to set before her 
guests. After the breakfast and worship the 
good woman filled the travelers’ wallet with food, 
• and the old man, folding his green cloak closer 
about him and putting on a high, bell-crowned 
hat, accompanied them for two miles on their way. 
At the heels of the patriarch ran a gaunt, shaggy 
dog and two goats, the three in entire amity 
following their master through all his walk. 

Arriving where the roads divided, before a 
shrine, the patriarch bade his friends farewell. 
To Nanni he said : “ God make you his mes- 
senger in Italy;” to Sandro, with a troubled 
face : “ God give you grace to witness a good 
confession ; ” and then he turned, striding up the 
hills homeward, with his three dumb companions 
gamboling behind him. 

*‘Well, Sandro,” said Nanni, after they had 
journeyed on in silence for some time, “ how 
did you like those people ? ” 

“Most splendid!” replied Sandro. “How 
clean they were, and how kind, and what nice 
little cheeses the Monna gave us for our lunch ; 
and then, we had new-laid eggs for supper ! ” 

9 G 


98 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“Ah, I did not know but you would think 
theni very evil-minded people,” said Nanni. 

“ Evil- minded ! How can they be evil-minded 
— they gave us fried chickens for breakfast ? ” 

“ That is to the purpose, certainly. But, San- 
dro, they were — Vaudois.” 

“Eh, what, uncle? Cospetto! they looked 
just like other people ! ” 

Yes; but they were Vaudois — Evangelicals. 
They have been converted by the Vaudois, and 
joined them ten years ago.” 

The Tadre’s teachings w’ere a half-forgotten 
medley in Sandro’s mind; the chickens were a 
present fact ; he was walking in the strength of 
fried chickens ; a cold chicken was in the wallet. 
Replied Sandro, manfully : 

“ Vaudois or not, I like ’em all the same.” 

“ It is a wise lad who can keep his own coun- 
sel,” said Nanni. 

Having kept to the shore as far as Civita Vec- 
chia, our travelers turned due east, keeping pru- 
dently to the north of Rome. Once out of Tus- 
cany Nanni’s quiet evangelistic labors had to be 
carried on with exceeding circumspection. 

Rounding the southern base of Mount Ave- 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


99 


line, and winding through the romantic passes 
of the Neapolitan Apennines, sleeping one night 
in a mountain monastery and two nights out of 
doors, riding sometimes in carriers’ carts, taking 
the raikoad once for a few hours, and once the 
diligence, our travelers passed Loggia and struck 
out for the Adriatic coast. The two sabbaths 
of the journey they had spent resting, one with 
some hidden Evangelicals of whom Nanni had 
once heard in Florence, in a little inn. On the 
Saturday evening, the twentieth day after they 
had set out, the pleasant but long journey ended 
at Barletta, and Nanni Conti, the only and long- 
absent son, was joyfully received by Ser. Conti, 
the calzolajo. Sandro also, the eldest son of the 
daughter whom they had not seen since her 
marriage, was made much of by his grand- 
parents. Sandro found the old people rather 
feeble in health and lonely, living in a house by 
themselves. Next door lived his mother’s only 
sister, Mariana, a widow, with three little chil- 
dren. 

An Italian home of the hunlbler sort is not 
to be judged by one of the same sort in Eng- 
land, or especially in America ; for instance : in 


100 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Ser. Conti’s house the front of the terremo was a 
little shop, where he worked ; it had no fireplace, 
but Ser. Conti sat in cold weather with an 
earthen pot of brace (a sort of charcoal) be- 
tween his knees. 

When, in the morning, this basket is taken to 
the carbonm^e, or fuel merchant, for filling, he 
lays with the brace a few burning coals; the 
whole slowly ignites, and being stirred now and 
then with a chip, or, by women, with a hair-pin, 
it serves to keep warm the hands and feet — now 
being held in the lap, or again put under the 
knees. 

Behind the fireless and low-ceiled shop was 
another room, devoted to some chickens and 
two goats ; beyond this opened a court, common 
to the inhabitants of several houses, w'here a 
cow, a donkey, a number of children, and some 
fowls ran freely. This court was undrained, un- 
evenly paved, shadowed by the houses gathered 
about it, and had a well in the centre w^here all 
water for washing or drinking was obtained for 
the adjacent houses. When any washing was 
done the suds were dashed into the court or into 
the street, and as drains were unknown, the 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


101 


dirty water probably filtered through the pave- 
ment and underlying soil, and so returned to 
the well. 

Ser. Conti’s house had — which is unusual — a 
dark dungeon of a cellar, the abode of worms, 
rats, spiders, broken bottles, and irretrievably 
bad shoes, which were flung down the staircase 
to fall where they would. The cellar had an 
arch-like great oven, and a dark nook behind 
it, known but never visited. 

The piano primp contained two bed-rooms 
and a smaller room ; the secnndo ignobly ended 
the house in an unceiled garret. Monna Conti 
kept the place as neat as she could, but she was 
old, the brick floors and bare ceilings gave more 
than fair play to dust and cobweb festoons ; and 
the picture of the Virgin, with its ever burning 
lamp in front, was the only thing in the place 
which shone. 

The aged calzolajo and his wife, in their cease- 
less round of housework, cobbling, narrow 
means, winter chill and loneliness may have 
been less pleasantly situated than is well for old 
people, but the true gloom of their lot was in- 
terior — a heart gloom ; their souls were dark as 
9 ^ 


102 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

pagans’. Old age had come, death was draw- 
ing near; but age was uncheered, death un- 
lighted by religious consolation. The old pair 
mumbled their confessions, knelt at mass, paid 
their dues, and yet had no knowledge of the 
love of Jesus, no consciousness of a sustaining, 
present Saviour, no hope of a blissful home be- 
yond death, no sense of God’s fatherhood. No, 
to them God was a being of tremendous terrors 
for those who did not obey holy church ; heaven 
was a frowning citadel, whereof Peter held huge 
iron keys ; multitudes of saints, all to be placated, 
stood between them and far-off Sen Jesus. To 
die was to be flung by strangers into some foul 
pit, reeking with several score of their dead 
townspeople,* and after that — purgatory. No 
wonder that a pathetic shadow rested on the 
faces of Conti and his wife, and Mariana the 
widow. 

To this dull home came Nanni with the happy 
heart, and Sandro the merry lad. 

The work that had been -done in Nanni’s soul 

* Death has no sanctity among the Italian Catholic poor. 
This, in the towns, is the horrible way of interment, and fre- 
quently the priest strips off the shroud. 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


103 


pervaded all his life. He followed the motto he 
had explained to Jacopo : he was as tidy as in- 
dustrious, and as kindly as tidy. The very day 
after Nanni reached home he rose betimes 
and swept the shop, washed the windows, 
scrubbed the brick floor, sorted the debris lying 
about, and set in order. the day’s work.. In all 
this he was helped by Sandro. When the old 
father appeared he was affectionately brushed 
and dusted and given the best seat. Old Conti 
had become melancholy and careless from 
working alone; now three were busy in his 
shop, and one. of them a superior workman. 

“ This looks like old times,” said Conti, and 
his wrinkled hands moved briskly. The work 
long promised and often neglected began to be 
finished satisfactorily. 

“ I shall cut out a pair of shoes, a pair of 
slippers and a pair of boots,” said Nanni, “ and 
make them, as I have time, for sale. We will 
keep a bit of work in the window, just to show 
the people what we can do for them.” 

But as days went by it was not merely com- 
panionship, increasing work, the sale of Nanni’s 
boots, the- neatness of the shop, which brought 


104 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

the peace to the old man's face, the light to his 
eye, the hopeful ring to his voice. His wife and 
Mariana shared these marks of changed feel- 
ings ; a new life had come to them ; their hearts 
God had touched; they heard and they be- 
lieved. When Nanni Conti left his father’s roof 
there were three members of an evangelical 
church in Barletta — the calzolajo, his wife and 
daughter. Not that there was any foundation 
of a church, or any formal profession of faith — 
the Evangel had only entered their souls, and 
they were living it. 

Nanni Conti, feeling for his father’s loneliness 
and weakness, was , ready to remain with him ; 
but to this the old man would not consent. 
Nanni’s desire — in which his father united — was 
that he should spend his time traveling up and 
down the country, acting the part of a peddler, 
but making trade subservient to teaching the 
Gospel. 

The old man, however, much desired that 
Sandro should remain with him. The boy had 
greatly improved, not only in reading and 
writing and accounts, but in shoemaking, under 
his uncle’s instructions, and could be* very use- 
ful to his grandfather. 


ALONG THE EOAD. 


105 


Ser. Jacopo had told Nanni to write him, if 
there was occasion, and that he would get the 
public scribe, or letter-writer, to read the letter 
for him. This functionary still sits near the 
post-office of Italian towns, to read and write for 
the pupils of priests. 

Nanni therefore wrote to Ser. Jacopo, and the 
calzolajo agreed to resign his son for the time 
being to the grandfather. 

Nanni therefore left Sandro in Barletta when 
he himself set out for Florence to lay in his 
stock in trade, and especially some Gospels, 
tracts and hymns, which he should distribute as 
he had opportunity. 

Sandro received from his uncle a New Testa- 
ment, which he was to keep with care and read 
as his grandfather desired. Thus to the boy 
was committed the sole distribution of the Gos- 
pel in the whole town of Barletta. Sandro 
could read intelligibly the letter of the Evangel; 
but his grandparents and aunt could understand 
its spirit, and, taught of God, could teach the 
friends who, one by one, began to drop in of 
evenings to hear the wonderful good news. 

Among these were a family named Fari — a 


106 THE OA TH-KEEPER . OF FORANO. 

man, his wife, a girl of sixteen, and a lad of 
Sandro’s age. When old Conti talked to this 
man of his new light, he always received the 
same reply : • 

“ It is good doctrine, but dangerous for us. 
Our priests will never let us hold it in peace, 
and we will come out losers if we oppose 
them.” 

Still the Fari family often came to hear San- • 
drb’s reading, and seemed to be especially 
friendly to all the Conti family. 

On his way to Firenze Nanni stopped to see 
Ser. Jacopo and give him news of his son and 
parents. Ser. Jacopo and Lisa were very eager 
to hear more of the “little book” which Nanni 
carried, and the shoemaker questioned the 
young man very closely about the presence of 
God, the manner of serving him, and the prom- 
ises to the obedient. Nanni saw that his soul 
, was troubled, and, explaining to him the Gospel 
more fully than he had before ventured to do, 
left him, with a prayer in his heart, and a hint 
to some of his evangelical friends to stop be- 
times at the shop and teach as they had oppor- 
tunity. 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


107 


It was to Honor Maxwell, however, that Ja- 
copo turned as to a safer counsellor. Italians 
have learned to be suspicious of each other; 
but Jacopo could trust both the wisdom and 
discretion of the young lady, and many were 
the errands he found for himself at the Palazzo 
Borgosoia, and numerous were the fittings need- 
ful to the Signorina’s new boots, while Jacopo 
spoke more of the Gospel than of his trade. 

Meanwhile in the Palazzo Borgosoia, Uncle 
Francini had painted Michael in various atti- 
tudes, and had lent him to his friend the sculptor 
as a model for an infant Jove, and for the juven- 
escence of the Archangel Michael (in which it 
would be very hard for most people to believe). 
Michael was learning rapidly to speak; his 
manners, now that training was added to their 
natural grace, so pleased Uncle Francini that he 
often proved “good family” from the manners, 
and the manners from “ good family,” in a man- 
ner very satisfactory — to himself. 

Easter had passed when Nanni returned from 
Barletta, and angered Ser. Jacopo by announc- 
ing that he was to travel up and down the 
country as a vender of small wares, and then 


108 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

mollified him by offering to sell for Jacopo 
many pairs of slippers and infants’ shoes. 

The spring grew into summer, and summer 
throve apace; and the Consul meanwhile had 
heard from Judith Lyons. David Lyons wrote, 
as well as his daughter, and while warmly thank- 
ing the Consul for his kindness to his child, he 
proceeded to press upon him the need of mak- 
ing inquiry for her son, whom she firmly be- 
lieved to be living. True, the priests said 
the boy was dead, but so they had said that the 
mother was dead. 

A controversy with priests is weary work; to 
get the truth from them is impossible. The 
Consul desired to avoid the inquiry; he tried in 
several letters to persuade the Lyons family that 
the child was dead : but they would not be per- 
suaded. No; his mother’s marriage had been 
ignored; his father’s family rejected him; the 
Hebrew blood was up; a scion of the house of 
Israel was branded as illegitimate ; his relatives 
must find him and repair the errors of unjust 
fortune to him. And this they were prepared 
to urge upon, not only the Consul, but the 
whole British Legation. They had money and 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


109 


to spare, and they would pour it out liberally 
for the attaining of their end. The Consul 
yielded to his fate. He tried to joke, and even 
told his senior clerk that “a man who falls 
among lions must needs be overpowered.” 

“Not if he is a Daniel,” said the clerk. 

The Consul was not a Daniel. He invited 
Father Zucchi to a supper, and made Mayonaise 
and Chianti his strong points. 

When the Consul informed the priest that the 
Lyons family were disposed to press the ques- 
tion concerning the child, Father Zucchi did 
not know whether to be enraged at the ex-nun’s 
presumption, or triumphant at the fulfillment of 
his own prophecy. 

“ I told you so,” said Father Zucchi. 

“I know you did,’^ replied the Consul, mildly; 
“and you will consider that the fact that her 
own death was carefully certified to her parents 
has gone far to cause the mother to doubt the 
statement of the decease of her child.” 

“That little mistake about her death can be 
easily explained,” said the priest; “and the 
death of the child can be incontrovertibly esr 

tablished.” 

10 


110 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“Then if your courtesy will grant me the 
proper references, we can doubtless finally con- 
clude this business.” 

“Davvero! ” cried the priest, “if women were 
allowed so many liberties here as in England we 
would be worse off than we are! What busi- 
ness has this woman with the child? I fancy 
children belong to their fathers ; and if any one 
is to inquire about this bambino^ it should be 
the Foranos.” 

“Oh, you admit the marriage?” said the Con- 
sul, briskly. 

“By your pardon, excellenza: a civil mar- 
riage may do in your country, but my church 
never admits it.” 

“Then you are shut up to assigning the 
mother the sole right to the child if he is not 
legitimate?” 

“ Pur troppo If but a dead child is of little use. 
Come, excellenza, your courtesy, your Chianti, 
our cordiality must not be disturbed. The 
priest near whose church Nicole Forano lived 
during the last year of his life, who certified this 
woman’s death — which, unfortunately, did not 


Small boy; 


f “ Only too clear ! ”• 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


Ill 


occur — and who can testify to the decease of the 
child, is the Father Innocenza, a most learned 
and agreeable young man, whom you will find at 
the chapel of the Sta. Maria Maggiore, about 
fifteen miles back among the hills. Let me 
give you a note to him, and you will understand 
all.” 

The Consul designed sending his senior clerk 
to Padre Innocenza; however, the’ weather was 
delightful, and cool for the season; the hill 
country was beautiful ; the Consul had of late 
been busy — for a Consul; he loved horseback 
exercise; he determined to be his own messen- 
ger; therefore, one golden, fragrant morning he 
might have been seen pacing easily between vine- 
yards and olive orchards, climbing gently by de- 
grees far above the level of the shining sea, and 
reaching, before mid-day, the chapel of Santa 
Maria Maggiore, a namesake of' the oldest 
church In Florence. Man had done little for 
the chapel and its surrounding village; nature 
had done everything. The chapel, a low, gray, 
blank-walled building, with an arched doorway 
and a small, square tower, stood on a bold hill, 
almost hidden m foliage, the road winding 


112 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

steeply down in front, and a yet sharper hill, 
chestnut-clothed, rising behind. The modest 
casette of the contadini * clustered about. Ly- 
ing in a wilderness of roses was the tiny villa 
where Judith and Nicole had spent one brief 
year of happiness. Higher up the slope, in a 
magnificent vineyard, stood a farm-house, in- 
habited by a fatiore who farmed this estate. 
From the chapel porch one had an unbroken 
view for miles and miles: the Arno; the dis- 
tant towers of Pisa, beauty’s sanctuary; the blue 
line of the Carrara, the wide, unruffled expanse 
of the Mediterranean. The Consul had looked 
on many a lovely scene, but he drew his rein, 
forgot his errand, and believed that he had 
wandered within the borders of a Paradise. 

The opening of a gate recalled him; a half- 
naked, brown urchin was offering him access 
to the Padre’s garden ; and Father fnnocenza, 
amazed at the appearance of a visitor, stood in 
his doorway. 

Having read Father Zucchi’s letter. Padre 
Innocenza seated his guest under a tree, and 
presently had placed before him a little table 


' * Country people. 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


113 


containing figs, the common wine of the country, 
and the dark, tough Italian bread. The wine, 
like bitter vinegar, and the black bread are not 
disagreeable, however, to those who are accus- 
tomed to them, and when Innocenza, waving his 
hand with grace, said, “Accept -my humble re- 
freshment; the contadini and their padre are 
poor ; only the English are rich,” the Consul 
was prepared to make a hearty refection. The 
Padre, with Father Zucchi’s note in one hand, 
and a crust, which he dipped in wine, in the 
other, sat deeply musing: his square-set chin and 
firm mouth indicated a great strength of resolu- 
tion; his keen eyes showed rare quickness of 
apprehension; the noble development of the 
head gave promise of fine intellectual powers. 
Father Innocenza was thirty years old, and for 
twenty-five years he had been a pupil of the 
priests, who had kept his mind in swaddling- 
bands until he was fit to become one of them- 
selves. And yet in spite of this dwarfing and 
repressing process, the young Padre was re- 
markably free from that, not merely animal, but 
markedly swinish appearance, whereof Mrs. 
Browning took special notice in Italian priests. 

10* H 


114 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

On our own part, we have often seen in the 
baptistry of Florence a young assistant, who not 
alone in form and countenance, but in the very 
tones of his voice, was more like a young porker 
in a surplice than anything else which the world 
contains. The Padre Innocenza was a type of 
a far nobler class, one of those sudden outbreaks 
in long priest-ruined generations of those high 
qualities, which once made Italians rulers of the 
world, and yet lie latent to be developed by 
more propitious circumstances into something 
of the pristine greatness of the race. And in 
Father Innocenza these better qualities, if he 
possessed them, were buried deep under lying, 
cruelty, hypocrisy, hatred, superstition, and 
under this superstrata of evil the god within, 
the conscience, buried so long ago that it had 
been quite forgotten, had begun strangely to stir 
and tremble like a seed bursting into life, for it 
had caught the distant warmth of a light that 
beamed, the softness of a dew that fell from 
Heaven ! 

At last said Padre Innocenza, with a final 
glance at Father Zucchi’s note, “You desire that 
I should explain the error concerning the death 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


115 


of an English woman, daughter of David Lyons, 
of London. May I inform your highness, that 
Nicole Forano died of fever. This place is, at 
times, malarious — (not a bit of it) — the times 
were evil ; many were ill. It is not surprising 
that the young woman caught the infection; 
that her child also received it, and that they 
sickened nearly at the same hour. I had them 
conveyed to a convent hospital several miles 
from here. Many patients were brought there 
during that week — some foreigners — an English 
servant, a Swiss nurse, and so on. In the press 
of care the Sisters mistook the English servant 
for the patient I had sent them. She died; a 
few days after the child died. There was no 
mistake about that, for it was the only child in 
the hospital. The Sisters buried the babe in 
the grave of its supposed mother. Not until 
the young woman, who had, been with Nicole 
Forano, recovered did the Sisters discover their 
mistake, and they spared her the recital of it. 
In her desolation she begged to take the veil, 
and for two years was content. Then I suppose 
memory faded, and her evil heart desired to go 
into the world and find a new lover; or, her 


116 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

maternal passions blighted in her babe’s loss, 
her filial love revived greatly, and she longed 
for her parents. Had she confided this to the 
Superior all would have been well ; instead, she 
took the violent and scandalous method of public 
escape. That is her whole story ; her child is 
dust long ago.” 

Well, it looked a reasonable, consistent story, 
and Innocenza told it impressively. The Consul 
conveyed it to David Lyons, but Judith was not 
satisfied. Mr. Lyons wrote again, stating that 
his daughter based her conviction of her son’s 
life on a sign made her by Gulio Ravi, an old 
servant. Let Gulio Ravi be found and his testi- 
mony taken. The Consul inquired for Gulio for 
some time unsuccessfully, and then advertised 
for him. '‘Would Ser. Gulio Ravi, formerly 
attendant on Ser. Nicole Forano, kindly call at 
the British Consulate ? ” Newspapers were not 
frequent nor well studied at Villa Forano, but at 
last Gulio became aware of the oft-repeated 
advertisement. He ignored it carefully. 

Not so the Marchese, that chevalier sans 
reproche : he summoned Gulio to his presence. 

“Are you aware, Gulio, that you are adver- 
tised for?” 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


117 


“No, Signore, it is quite impossible!” 

“ But here is the advertisement — read it. 
True, there may be several of your name ; but 
this means you, as the attendant of my lamented 
brother. Gulio, you must go there.” 

“Impossible, illustrissimo! * I cannot spare 
time.” 

“ It may be to your advantage, Gulio.” 

“ Signore, I despise my advantage when I 
consider your vines.” 

“ But I must consider for you, then, Gulio ; 
you must go to the Consulate — go this week.” 

Gulio prudently kept out of sight of his 
master for several days, but did not leave the 
estate. Again the advertisement. Again was 
Gulio summoned. 

“ Gulio ! here is this advertisement again ; why 
have you not been to answer it? ” demanded the 
Marchese, sternly. 

“ Cospetto, ten million pardons ; I forgot it. 
Signore.” 

“There must be no more forgetting. The 
Foranos live without shadow on their names; 

* The Italians use excellenza, milord, illustrissimo, etc., very 
freely. 


118 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

you were born among us j you are in a measure 
a Forano; you cannot be advertised for as if you 
were ashamed to appear, as if you were hiding 
for a crime. Mind, I know that there is no er- 
ror can be proved against you, and I am prepared 
to defend you from every charge; but answer 
this you must to-morrow, or I will go in your 
place the day following.” 

“ Illustrissimo! You make too much of it; 
but ecco ! I obey you. I go to-morrow at day- 
break. Consider me gone ! ” 

Thus was Gulio compelled to report at the 
Consulate; if he only made a pretence, that 
abominable advertisement would continue, and 
the Marchese would go himself. With the first 
yellow dawn Gulio was trotting northwest on a 
good horse, and by noon he entered the Consul’s 
private room. Who doubts that Gulio made the 
best of himself — “ he had but last night observed 
the advertisement of the illustrious Signore, and 
hastened to obey.” The Consul was brief. You 
were with Ser. Nicole Forano in London, and 
knew of his marriage? You accompanied him 
on his return to Italy? You knew of the birth 
of his child ? Of Ser. Nicole’s death ? Of 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


119 


Madame Forano’s intention of returning to 
England ? ” 

To all these queries Gulio could only reply, 
“ Si, Signore ; ” he had never told so many truths 
before. 

** You last saw Madame Forano on the second 
day of Lent, in a boat on the bay, and you made 
her a sign that her child lived ? ” 

** O, ten million pardons, illustrissimo Signore, 
nothing of the kind ! ” exclaimed the ingenuous 
Gulio. 

“ Do you deny seeing Madame Forano that 
day?” 

Signore, I did indeed see a Signora who 
called me by name. I leave it to your Excel- 
lenza if it were Madame Forano. I could not 
tell after so many years and changes.” 

Suppose you ^^<3^ recognized her; would you 
have made her a sign that her child lived ? ” 

“ O, Signore, utterly impossible.” 

“And why so ? ” 

“ Merely because the unhappy bambino died 
long ago.” 

“ In a hospital, of fever, as Father Innocenza 
deposes ? ” 


120 . THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“It is needless for me to inform your Ex- 
cellenza.” 

“Then I have your assurance that you did 
not, and could not give Madame Forano such a 
sign as she supposed, because you knew that 
her child . was dead.” 

“Signore, you state it precisely. I cannot 
better it.” 

The Consul handed Gulio twenty francs, and 
that guileless young man, glad on the whole 
that he had answered the advertisement, betook 
himself to a Trattoria to get his dinner; he 
afterwards bought himself a silk neckerchief of 
a golden hue. 

The next morning Gulio presented himself 
before the Marchese. 

“Ah, you went to the Consulate, Gulio ? ” 

“ Truly, Signore.” 

“And what was wanted ? ” 

“ Merely some nonsense, Signore.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Gulio,” said the old gen- 
tleman, stiffly, returning to his book. 

“And I beg your pardon. Signore, a thousand 
times; it was only modesty that silenced me. 
Pray listen. Signore. Merely an English milord 


ALONG THE ROAD. 


121 


who had seen me with Ser. Nicole in London 
thought I would make a good courier, and ad- 
vertised for me. Dawero, would I leave the 
Forano service for all the milords inglese in 
creation ! ” 

‘‘It might be for your advantage, my good 
Gulio.” 

“Ah, Signore, consider, here I am at home ; 
with the milord ingles^ I am forever a stranger. 
I had rather trim your vines, Ser. Marchese, 
than have all the milord’s money. No; and he 
thereupon hired another courier.” 

“ Well, you have chosen for yourself, Gulio, 
and I am glad not to lose you; be sure, I shall 
not forget it.” 

“Your approbation, mio Marchese, is a thou- 
sand compensations;” and thus the honest 
Gulio came off as usual with flying colors. 

11 


CHAPTER V. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 

Their views indeed were indistinct and dim, 
But yet successful, being aimed at Him, 

Christ and his character their only scope. 

Their object, and their subject, and their hope.” 



|URING this same summer the story of 


i_y Judith Forano drifted to the Palazzo Bor- 
gosoia, borne along on the tide of events, as a 
bit of weed is borne on the incoming waves of 
the sea. Mrs. Bruce, deeply interested in her 
protege, wrote to her own countrywoman. Honor 
Maxwell, reciting the story of the Jewess’ wrongs. 
‘‘ She believes her child is living. I believe in 
the mother instinct that causes her to know in 
some mysterious manner that her son is not dead. 
If the boy is living, suppose it should happen that 
you should see him or hear of him.” Thus 
Honor read from the letter to Uncle Francini. 

“Why,” says Uncle Francini, “she has lost a 


( 122 ) 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


123 


child : you have found one : perhaps they are the 
same.” “ O uncle ! ” cried Honor, in excite- 
ment — “but how could I tell— stay, here is a 
slip of paper on which Mrs* Bruce writes 
Madame Forano’s description of the child. 

^ Come to me, Michael ! ” Michael, who was 
lying on a rug on the farther side of the great 
salon, playing with a back-gammon board, 
sprang up and planted himself before her ; 
Uncle Francini leaned forward to compare the 
boy with the description. Honor read : “ her 
babe was very fair : ” a look at Michael : his skin 
was a clear, dark olive, the blood burning ruddy 
in his cheeks and lips, and on the tips of his 
ears, and now flushing his throat, from the 
warmth of the day: “its eyes were a lovely 
violet.” Honor looked at her foundling, but 
knew well enough already that his great, 
laughing eyes were black as jet; “and its hair 
was curly and golden.” Michael’s hair was 
curly enough, his locks fell in shining masses, 
gently lifted by the sea-breeze, stirring through 
the room about his shoulders; but these locks 
matched his eyes, except where a strong light 
creeping through the blinds, which were now 


124 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

down to keep out the sun, tinged their waves 
with bronze. Honor was reading a mother’s 
description of a babe of a month old, lost nearly 
six years before* ; she was looking upon a great, 
romping boy; there was nothing in common 
between the picture of Judith Forano’s memory 
and the boy of Honor Maxwell’s reality. I 
think both Uncle Francini and Honor were glad 
that there was not : on these hot days, when he 
could not paint, what could the old man do 
without the boy ? 

The summer brought forth harvest and vin- 
tage, and vintage and harvest were gathered; 
meanwhile the seed which Nanni had sown in 
Ser. Jacopo’s heart in early spring, had also 
brought forth its fruit. All summer the honest 
man had come to Honor for counsel, and she 
had ever taken him to the law and to the testi- 
monies. As his thirst for the very word of God 
grew greater, Assunta had gone evening after 
evening with her Italian Bible, and shut in, in an 
inner room with the calzolajo and his wife, had 
read to them by the hour. Honor Maxwell had 
taught her maid to read the Scriptures; the 
Spirit of God brought home their meaning with 
Divine efficiency. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


125 


We come to the evening of one of the regular 
meetings of the Vaudois Church. The room 
was dark, rough, low ceiled, the floor brick ; the 
benches backless, the lights dim and few — our 
Vaudois brethren are poor. The Swiss pastor 
sat at a little table with his Bible before him ; 
Doctor and Mrs. Polwarth came in, presently 
also Honor Maxwell and her maid, then shortly 
after appeared two who had never hitherto gath- 
ered with the Vaudois band, Ser. Jacopo and 
Monna Lisa. There was reading, prayer, ex- 
hortation from one and another. Then Ser. 
Jacopo rose, and there was a waiting silence. 
He began to speak in the firm, calm voice of a 
man whose mind has been cautiously and irre- 
vocably made up. “At the close of last Carni- 
val, my brother-in-law came to my house, having 
a copy of the Evangel. He had also the Evan- 
gel in his heart. He read to me in the book, 
and I found it good ; he taught me much which 
I felt to be the truth. But this truth was some- 
thing different from all that I had before heard 
or practiced, and there arose a contest in my 
heart. I did not wish to draw enmity upon my- 
self; I did not wish to endanger my business. 


126 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

myself, my family, by provoking the priests; 
and especially, I did not wish to sacrifice a few 
lire by changing certain habits in my business ; 
I did not wish to speak truth and act truth at 
all times ; so I shut my heart to the Evangel. 
But, my brothers, we may shut the gates of our 
city to our friends or our foes, but thereby we 
cannot shut out the sun of heaven, he still shines 
on us ; so though I shut my heart, I felt the eye 
of God like a burning sun, look down into my 
soul ; and as our locked gates do not keep out 
the air, I felt a new knowledge stirring within 
me. I cannot tell you why I went for relief to 
the Evangel^ instead of to the priests; God 
alone knows why I went to the Signorina Max- 
well, and she read me the Evangel. At last, my 
brothers, what did I feel ? I saw Ser. Jesus 
leaving his throne of glory to live on earth — for 
me ; I saw him poor, weary, despised, homeless — 
for me ; I beheld him dying, biTried, risen — for 
me — and my. soul said, What then, cannot I 
leave a Church which hides his Evangel, cannot 
I suffer loss and scorn, cannot I give up a few 
lire for Ser. Jesus, who did all this— for me? 
Ah, my brothers, when I did feel that I could 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 127 

even lose the lire for Ser. Jesus, then all was 
done. I no longer feared the priests, I no longer 
withheld anything. This is my wife, Lisa. I 
said to her, ^ Lo, I am become ^n Evangelical for 
Ser. Jesus ; must I therefore lose you and my 
children ? Even so, I am content to give up all 
for him.’ But my wife replied, ‘ Ecco, Jacopo, 
what has Ser. Jesus done for you that he has 
not done for me ? What do you owe him that 
I do not ? No, we will be Evangelicals together.’ 
* In that case,’ I said, ‘there is no division; we 
will take all our eight sons with us into the ser- 
vice of Ser. Jesus, for for that cause he gave us 
the eight’ And then finally, my brothers, I 
said to the maiden Assunta, who had read the 
Evangel to me, ‘ Do you fear to confess Ser. 
Jesus before men?’ and she replied ‘No;’ there- 
fore she is here with us to-night. Take us — we 
belong to you — because we belong to Christ ! ” 
Ser. Jacopo spread out his brawny arms as if he 
would embrace the whole assembly ; tears were 
falling from many eyes; the Vaudois pastor 
sobbed aloud ; Mrs. Polwarth and Honor Max- 
well thought of the maid Mercy, who went to 
the heavenly city with Christiana and her sons ; 


128 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and they remembered the good journey from 
the City of Destruction to the Celestial Gate — 
but they forgot that Vanity Fair lay across their 
road. 

The winter came, clear, bright, with a beauty 
of its own ; the last olives were gathered ; the 
roses disappeared with Christmas, but along the 
hills the hawk-weed with its golden eye defied 
the frost, and bloomed the winter through. 
During, these months Nanni, with a pack on his 
back, travelled up and down in Tuscany; the 
pack held the usual light wares of a peddler, 
but he had a wallet of gospels, and Testaments, 
and copies of hymns, and his heart was stored 
with the truth which his lips dispensed. 

When the spring came Nanni left Tuscany 
by “ reedy Trasemene,” crossed Umbria, passed 
through the Apennines north of Mount Carno, 
and traveled along the Adriatic coast to Bar- 
letta. The evangelist found the country people, 
as a rule, less accessible, more under the domin- 
ion of the priests, less realizing the possibilities 
of liberty than the people of the cities. Arriving 
at Barletta, he found his parents well, and indeed 
bearing fruit in old age, for several Bible meet- 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


129 


ings were held at their house weekly, Sandro 
reading, and* his grandfather explaining the 
Scriptures, and the number of believers had al- 
ready increased to eight. Sandro seemed to have 
reached a very remarkable degree of experience 
for his age; the Fari family were still hearers 
but not doers of the word. The eight believers 
of Barletta rejoiced greatly in Nanni’s visit of a 
month ; he left them to go to Ser. Jacopo with 
an important proposition. Signore Conti was 
not likely to be able to continue his business for 
many years, and desired that Ser. Jacopo should 
remove to Barletta, and keep the bottega in his 
stead. A calzolajo in the town had just died, 
and his widow was willing to sell out his interest 
and stock in trade for a small sum, which frugal 
Ser. Conti was able to pay in behalf of his son- 
in-law. 

Italians are accustomed to crowding in their 
houses, and by using one of the widow Mariana’s 
rooms in the house next door, the Jacopo family 
could be accommodated with the old man’s 
home. Not only would a family thus be united, 
but a household of believers would be estab- 
lished in Barletta, to strengthen each other’s 


130 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORAJVO. 

hands, and set an example of Christian domestic 
life. 

Charged with this mission of bringing Ser. 
Jacopo to comfort the declining years of his 
father-in-law, Nanni turned his steps toward the 
north. 

Ser. Jacopo readily accepted the proposal ; it 
would unite him to his son, his wife to her 
parents : they would be placed in a little com- 
munity of converts like themselves ; the work of 
God promised fair to progress in the southern 
city: they might not only share in the seed- 
sowing, but help to gather in the harvests. 

More than fifteen years have passed since then. 
I am writing history. I look back and see how 
indeed they sowed the seed, and how they 
gathered the harvest and brought home the 
vintage. I see, and a great blackness falls over 
Ser. Jacopo and Monna Lisa and their seven 
sons, going toward Barletta; and, as in the 
vision of Abraham, after the darkness, a smok- 
ing furnace and a burning lamp moving up and 
down. 

So Ser. Jacopo was gone south, and Easter 
had come ; and in Easter week Father Innocenza 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 131 

— from whom Dr. Polwarth had heard nothing 
for the year since his first visit — suddenly reap- 
peared at the pastor’s study. Padre Innocenza 
was even in more of a passion than before ; his 
frame quivered with excitement; he was angry 
with himself, his lot in life, his church, with Dr. 
Polwarth and his letter; and after the first cour- 
tesies of meeting trembled on his tongue his 
suppressed rage broke forth at the minister’s 
mild question : 

“ Have you honored me by bringing your 
answer to my letter?” 

*^No, I have not brought an answer. You 
must explain yourself. Your letter is dishonest 
and unfair. I must know what you mean and 
why you mean it.” 

I am ready to explain my meanings. I had 
hoped my letter was so simple as to need noth- 
ing to make it clearer.” 

“ Ciarle ! * Answer me this : I hear that you 
have called my church Anti-Christ’s church, my 
Pope Anti-Christ, our spirit Anti-Christ. Tell 
me — have you ? ” 

Now Dr. Polwarth had never thus spoken to 


* “ Mere talk,” or “ nonsense.’ 


132 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Romanists, but he had said many things in the 
course of his life. 

“ Yes, I have said so,” he replied. 

‘‘And why did you say so ? ” 

“ Because I believe it to be true.” 

“ On what authority ? ” roared the padre, in a 
white heat. 

“ On the authority of God’s own word,” 
replied the pastor, coolly. 

“I will tell you what you shall do,” said 
Padre Innocenza, nearly choking with rage ; 
“ you shall sit down here and you shall draw 
me out those references in God’s word whereon 
you base that opinion. I go to prove them. 
If you do not make them plain, if it is not as 
you have said, then, son of infamy, preacher of 
lies, first-born of Satan, you are Anti-Christ 
yourself!” 

Dr. Polwarth at first felt those risings of the 
natural' man which tempted him to thrust the 
abusive ecclesiastic into the street; but he had 
learned of Him who when he was reviled, reviled 
not again. Moreover, he looked into the priest’s 
eyes and saw, under all this passion, a man di- 
vinely troubled. Therefore, instead of becoming 
excited, the Doctor said, quietly: 


THE MAE CHE SE FOEANO. 133 

“ I will write out these references and send 
them to you.” 

“You shall not!”cfied Innocenza. “I will 
have them now. There is your paper, your pen, 
your book ; sit there and write, and I will wait 
for it.” 

He at once began to pace up and down the 
study, like an excited wild beast restive in its 
cage. 

Dr. Polwarth placed himself at his table and 
opened his Bible. He had the Scriptures in his 
head and in his heart. He had studied this 
question, and found the prophecies of the great 
apostasy in the Old Testament as well as the 
New. 

He began turning over the leaves of his Bible 
and placing on a sheet of foolscap the references 
•in fair script, writing out not the whole verses, 
but their first and concluding words. Thus he 
went rapidly on, gathering from the Prophets, 
‘thp Gospels, the Epistles, the Apocalypse, the 
portrait of the Roman heresy. After more 
than an hour of incessant labor on his part, in- 
cessant walking on the part of Padre Innocenza, 

the minister said : 

12 


134 ' THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“I have done. You have now to search out 
and verify these passages. If I offer you an 
Italian Bible, you will not consider it reliable. 
Where will you find the word of God with 
which to compare these Scriptures ? ” 

Padre Innocenza grasped the paper, and, fold- 
ing it small, thrust it into an inner pocket. 

“ E basta ! ” * he cried ; don’t trouble your- 
self, Signore; I will see to it that these are 
properly compared with a true Bible — one that 
/ accept as no garbled product of heresy ! ” 
And hardly waiting for a parting salutation, he 
rushed away. 

It was late in the afternoon when Padre Inno- 
cenza’s weary and dripping steed climbed the 
last steep ascent to the Chapel of “ Sta. Maria 
Maggiore of the Hills.” He gave the rein to 
the half-naked sprite who acted as his valet, 
stable-boy and general factotum, and as the lad 
turned to the stable the priest entered his 
chapel. The air was chill — all Italian churches 
have the cold of the grave. The floor was brick 
paved; the benches were backless' and worn, 
like the seats of country schools an hundred 


* That is enough. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


135 


years ago ; along the walls were set tablets, 
bearing the epitaphs of the richer parishioners 
of Sta. Maria Maggiore for the last two cen- 
turies ; here and there a more ambitious memo- 
rial had marble festoons, scrolls, cherubs’ heads 
and skulls wrought about it. 

Above the altar was a Virgin borne by angels, 
a work of Aurelio Lomi ; beneath it was a taber- 
nacle wrought in brass, and a worm-eaten cru- 
cifix, by a pupil of Giotto. On the altar were 
the usual tall candles and faded bunches of arti- 
ficial flowers. To the left, and partly behind 
the altar, lay along the floor the marble figure 
of a man in priest’s robes. Padre Innocenza 
walked over this monument to his predecessor 
of three-quarters of a century back, and then, 
drawing aside a faded and dusty crimson cur- 
tain, entered his sacristy and locked the door 
behind him. The sacristy had one window high 
up in the wall ; it was a lonely room, and Padre 
Innocenza looked lonely standing therein. The 
stone floor had sunken and twisted unevenly; 
the table in the centre of the room was dusty 
and time-eaten ; against the door swung a long 
rusty cassock, something like a murderer hang- 


136 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 


ing from a gibbet in chains. There was a dalf 
pitcher and basin, with a towel flung thereon, 
but the half-clad factotum had failed to put 
water in the pitcher or bring a clean towel; a 
server with several little cups and glasses for 
holding salt, oil, water and such things, for 
mass, stood on a shelf, and beside it a ewer, a 
broken glass and two or three empt}^ bottles. 
Under the shelf were two rows of large drawers. 
Father Innocenza , knew well what each one 
held, yet could not prevail upon himself to go 
directly to what he wanted. 

He opened the first drawer ; there, in a care- 
less heap, lay a great curtain of purple velvet 
embroidered in gold ; but the velvet had grown 
dingy, threadbare, moth-eaten, the broidery was 
blackened with age, a little cloud of dust rose as 
the priest turned over its folds. Beneath the 
curtain was a huge missal, with great brass 
clasps and leather bindings ; the book and the 
curtain were alike worn out with a century and 
a half of use. The second drawer which 
Padre Innocenza opened was full of ancient 
stoles, surplices, and altar veils ; the muslin was 
yellow with time, full of rents and darns; 


THE MARCHE SE FORA HO. 


137 


the lace and embroidery were frayed and torn 
away. In this drawer was a book, a volume of 
“ rites and ceremonies.” Still to another drawer 
went the Padre ; here were more vestments — 
purple vestments for Lent ; white vestments, 
glowing with embroidery and golden with great 
crosses ; scarlet vestments, black , vestments ; 
they were not yet beyond using, and were folded 
with some little care; the psalter and prayer 
book lying with them were evidently yet in 
service. The fourth drawer held various basins, 
crucifixes, an old tabernacle, a prie-dieu cover, a 
cap or two, a rosary, a bent salver. Then the 
Padre came to the last drawer of the treasures 
which had been gathered here during two hun- 
dred years. He opened the drawer more rever- 
ently. Here was a priest’s rusty frock, a shabby 
hat, an hour-glass, a skull, a stole, and under all 
a purple Lenten altar-veil. This was wrapped 
into a large package; Padre Innocenza unfolded 
it, and lo ! a book. The volume was square, 
had been bound in white sheepskin, which was 
now brown with age, riddled with holes, and 
cut with winding lines by worms ; the clasps . 
were dull and bent. He opened it; the page 
12 * 


138 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

was yellow, clouded, and had marks as of a 
book that had been in the water, or long buried 
in the earth. The paper was like parchment in 
finish and thickness, the type, huge, black, 
antique — a wonderful and precious book, not 
only to the enthusiastic collector, but yet more 
to the man who held it in his hand. It was a 
complete Bible, and on the front blank page was 
written : “ This is the true and unadulterated 
word of the Lord God of Heaven and Earth,” and 
the name signed was that of the priest who had 
worn this rusty robe and faded stole ; who had 
counted by this hour-glass the time of his 
prayers ; who had kept this skull by his bed- 
side as a memento mori ; whose head this bat- 
tered hat had covered; who had served at the 
altar which this veil had draped ; who had gone 
down to dust three-quarters of a century ago, 
and over whose grave Padre Innocenza had 
walked when he came into the sacristy. 

What had been the history of the Bible ? It 
must have been very old and defaced when it 
came to the dead priest’s hands ; it was marked 
with notes and comments in faded ink ; it was 
worn and thumbed as if it had been labored 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


139 


over by hungry souls — well, it was in the 
chapel ten years ago, it is there now, a book 
with a marvelous unwritten history that will 
never be known until the last day. Padre Inno- 
cenza j5laced between the leaves of this Bible 
the paper given by Dr. Polwarth. Then he 
heard the shrill voice of his factotum calling him 
to supper, and so replaced the book in hiding, 
and went into his house. 

If we had looked for the Padre for two days 
following, we should have found him locked 
in the sacristy, the Bible spread out before 
him. Dr. Polwarth’s paper in his hand, the pain 
and passion in his face darkening every hour. 

On the third day Padre Innocenza locked the 
paper in a drawer, and opened the Bible at the 
first page; here he began to read rapidly, yet 
with the air of one who compares the word 
under his eye with something which he has pre- 
viously learned. 

In such reading and pondering Padre Inno- 
cenza spent the spring, the summer, and the 
autumn of i86i. But after the first week of 
this reading a change came upon the parish of 
Sta. Maria Maggiore of the Hills.” 


140 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 


From fifty to a hundred people had been 
wont to come on Sabbath to the Padre’s minis- 
trations. He had looked on them exactly as 
the Sanhedrin looked on the rabble of their 
day when they said, “ This people who knoweth 
not the law are cursed.” But after the first 
week of his new studies Padre Innocenza looked 
on his flock as men ; he began to take an in- 
terest in them; to feel that he had a duty to 
them ; to compassionate ' their ignorance, to 
strive to relieve it. Hitherto the Padre had 
been supposed to preach once a month, per- 
haps ; and at such times he had read or said 
something, without caring at all whether his 
people understood it or were likely to profit by 
it. The parishioners, isolated on their hills, sel- 
dom went five miles from their homes, unless an 
occasional member of the flock vanished toward 
France, England, or America, and was heard 
of no more. Once in several years, a Bishop 
came from Firenze to confirm the few young 
people who might be of age for that rite; and 
for the rest the congregation were entirely re- 
mitted to Padre Innocenza, who had hitherto 
been to them the minister of death. And yet 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


141 


there was a tradition in the church, a tradition 
that in the time of the oldest peoples’ grand- 
fathers the priest who now slept behind the left 
hand of the altar had stood in the carved, high- 
up pulpit of this chapel and had so preached to 
the people that tears had rolled over their faces ; 
that the whole chapel was crowded; that envy, 
strife, theft, profanity nearly perished from 
among them; that the dying died serenely; and 
the little children lived as saints. It was very 
far from this in Padre Iiinocenza’s day. 

But now the Padre began each Sabbath to 
preach, not coldly, on some incomprehensible 
theme, but simply, earnestly, as one who speaks 
to children, and his first sermon was how God 
made all things. The people went away won- 
dering to each other how wise their Padre was, 
how he had told them new things, how kindly 
anck plainly he had spoken. So the next Sab- 
bath more came out, and the Padre, told them 
of Eden on its four rivers. He was a man of 
rich imagination naturally, and now that some 
of the fetters had been struck from his soul, he 
spoke to these simple contadini not as a stranger 
would have done, but as their beauty-loving 


142 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

hearts rejoiced to hear. For them he replanted 
the delightful Garden ; he placed it on a sunny 
slope, and poured around it such rivers as they 
loved, likening them to the Arno, the Tiber, the 
Ombrone and the Po ; he set it with the vine, 
the olive, the rose, and all the fair flowers of 
Italy; he put their own birds to sing in the 
midst of it; and then he showed them those 
trees of mystery, the Tree of Life and the Tree 
of Knowledge. The listeners were captivated, 
and they reflected their enthusiasm* upon him. 

Thus it went on. He taught them new les- 
sons of family life from Adam and Eve; he 
instructed them on the training of their children 
by the history of Cain and Abel ; and when he 
came to such themes as the doleful fall, the 
reviving promise, the offerings of the two 
brothers, his half-enlightened soul hung on the 
edge of diviner revelations, and his interested 
people caught the first gleam of glory yet 
to be. 

Thus there was a spiritual work beginning 
among the hills unguessed by the priests, un- 
known to the evangelicals, undreamed of by 
Dr. Polwarth, unrealized by the very people 


THE MAE CHE S£ FORANO. 


143 


among whom it was being wrought ; and here 
we leave them for a while. 

Meanwhile it was a summer of exceeding 
heat, and in July, Uncle Francini hired a little 
villa some fifteen miles from the city, a villa on 
the hills, where the air was cooler, and there he 
removed with Honor, Michael, Assunta, and 
two or three household servants. It was a 
charming place ; the garden and the vineyard 
were rich with fruit and blo^m ; the road wound 
through delicious groves; there was a far-off 
view of the sea; near the house, on a rise in the 
road, stood a large shrine to the Virgin, built as 
a pavilion, marking the limits of the Forano 
estate, and a little distance beyond this stood 
the rambling Villa Forano. 

It happened one day that Gulio Ravi was 
busy in the Forano vineyard, a very beautiful 
piece of property, surrounded by a high wall. 
In this wall was a door, which Gulio supposed 
to be locked. In the midst of his work he 
turned about, and had he been a superstitious 
man he might have fancied he saw a vision of 
the Madonna and the heavenly Bambino; for 
the door stood open, and in the archway a 


144 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

young woman clad in celestial blue, and by her 
side a bambino of extraordinary beauty. As 
Gulio looked at them this bambino gave a cry, 
and ran a few steps toward him, but the be- 
nignant Gulio frowned so fiercely that the child 
immediately retreated. 

“ I thoughtl' said Michael, who could now 
speak fluently, to Honor, ''I ihoiight I knew that 
man.” 

Gulio at once laid down his hoe, and walked 
to another part of the- vineyard. 

“ Evidently he does not know you,” said 
Honor. 

But immediately Gulio returned with some 
fruit, which he coolly offered to Michael, saying 
to Honor: “Signora, I saw your little son once 
at the shop of Ser. Jacopo. He must have a 
beautiful memory; I thought, when he looked at 
me, he remembered me.” 

Between the frown and the fruit Michael was 
quite bewildered about Gulio, and Honor fully 
accepted the fabrication concerning Ser. Jacopo. 
As for Gulio, he waited for the future, as a 
further and finer field for lying, and with a true 
Italian relish for intrigue. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


145 


And now the story of Judith Forano made 
another advance, as if the tide had risen higher 
and flung the drift further in shore — it reached 
the Villa Forano. The old Marchesa Forano 
was a most kindly woman ; she heard of the new 
occupants of the little villa and desired to show 
them courtesy. One morning the Signora 
Forano, as was her custom, went to the shrine, 
and as she sat there Honor passed by. Rising, 
the lady said : “ Pray, enter and sit to rest. This 
pavilion was made for travelers, and for the 
beautiful view.” 

Honor at once accepted the invitation, and 
the two fell into conversation. Miss Maxwell 
had readily acquired a sufficient knowledge of 
Italian for ordinary conversation, and it had been 
her custom from her first coming to Italy to 
talk with Italians whenever she had opportunity. 
In her intercourse with Francini his native 
Italian had aided greatly her obtaining a good 
acquaintance with the language, and yet better, a 
just estimate of Italian tones, a readiness in 
understanding the idioms, and some degree of 
sympathy with them. Italians enjoy conversing 
with strangers who will meet them as Honor 


146 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

did, but they resent any attempt on a foreigner’s 
part to force himself upon them as a teacher. 
There is a deal of pride kept in reserve in the 
Italian heart, and this pride is sorely wounded 
when a foreign barbarian, who cannot speak 
pure Tuscan, offers to teach the possessor of 
that “tongue of heaven.” 

This is where foreign missionaries are ever at 
a disadvantage in Italy ; the people are crafty, 
and very accessible to considerations of lire, but 
while for some exterior gain they will seem to 
hear, the soul is shut to teaching given by one 
who can err in construction, or use false quanti- 
ties in the speech wherein Dante sung. It is 
better, then, that Italians teach Italians, except 
where familiarity, friendship or respect win the 
outer citadels of the proud heart, and the Italian 
comes freely to ask instruction of the stranger. 
In this manner Honor Maxwell had learned 
from Uncle Francini to treat his countrymen, 
and now, when Signora Forano opened a con- 
versation with her. Honor was scrupulously 
careful to let the Marchesa lead the way, while 
she, on her part, only continued the themes 
which the lady suggested. The Marchesa, too 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


147 


often left lonely, as she had few neighbors but 
coniadiniy was greatly pleased with her new 
acquaintance, and expressed a hope that she 
should see Honor at the Pavilion next day. 
In a few days both the Marchese and his wife 
called on the occupants of the Villa Anteta ; the 
visit was returned, and as the meetings at the 
Pavilion occurred every morning, the ladies soon 
became intimate. The Pavilion was, as we have 
said, a shrine to the Virgin ; its area was about 
ten feet square ; its top was a dome surmounted 
by a gilt cross, and on three sides it was open, 
the dome being supported by columns; the 
floor was laid in red and blue tiles, seats 
were provided, and the wall at the back was 
devoted to a picture of the Ascension of the 
Virgin; beneath this was a tablet stating that 
the whole was a votive offering 'of a certain 
Marchese Forano, “for favor bestowed by the 
Queen of Heaven.” 

One morning as Honor and the Marchesa sat 
in the Pavilion, the eye of the elder lady fell 
upon this tablet, and she said : 

“This shrine was built by my husband’s 
mother. One is very happy who vows for the 


148 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

obtaining of some great blessing and receives 
the gift. Our names are in the Tuscan Gold 
Book : we are therefore of the old nobility ; but 
a fate seems on such families — they are dying 
out. Behold, dear Signorina, the cities and the 
country swarm with the children of the poor, 
and we, whose names should continue in the 
Gold Book, are slowly disappearing.” After 
musing for a time, the Marchesa continued : 

“My husband’s mother was married five 
years without children. She vowed to erect 
this shrine to the Holy Mother if she might 
have a son : my husband was born and the 
shrine was built. For twenty years she had no 
other children, and then a second son was born. 
The Marchesa died when this second son was two 
years old. The next year my husband and my- 
self married. » When the young Nicole was five 
years old his mother died, and then the boy 
lived with us as our own. As years passed on 
and we had no children Nicole consoled us, for 
he seemed like our own; my husband was so 
much the elder that his brother seemed like his 
child, and we looked to him as our heir, and to 
continue our house. Alas ! Signorina, how 


THE MARCHESE FQRANO. 


149 


dark are the ways of heaven ! My husband and 
I live lonely in our advancing years, and all I 
can say of Nicole is that his tomb is in that 
little chapel by the grove : you can see it from 
this side of the Pavilion. When you first passed 
by here with that beautiful little boy, Signorina, 
I thought you were his mother, and I said in my 
heart, ‘ Here is one who may never have be- 
sieged the Virgin with vows, and yet heaven has 
. been more bountiful to her than to me ; but I 
find the child is not your son.” 

^‘No,” said Honor; “and we have no idea 
whose son he is. He came very singularly into 
our hands. He seemed to have no protectors ; 
his grace and beauty pleased us, and I seemed 
to hear God saying to me, as was said of the 
infant Moses, ^Take this child away, and nurse 
it for me, and I will- give thee thy wages.’ ” 

“ Moses, I believe, was a Jew,” said the Mar- 
chesa. “For my part I think it wrong to hate 
Jews. This lovely child is Italian. Come to 
me, Michael;” and as the boy leaned on her 
lap and laughed in her face she caressed his 
flowing locks, saying: “Sometimes I have 
wished that we had adopted a child, if we could 
13 * 


150 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

only have found one with a drop of Forano 
blood.” 

'‘And your brother-in-law did not marry?” 
asked Honor. 

“Would that he had! No; he, I heard, 
became entangled in some way — so many 
young men do. It is very wrong, but not for 
us to speak of, Signorina ; such matters are only 
for confessors to speak of to the young men. 
Nicole did not die here at Forano, but at some 
casseta, where he lived — with — well we heard a 
rumor, and my husband asked Padre Innocenza, 
who brought the body to us, and the Padre said 
that poor Nicole had become entangled, but that 
before he died all was repented; he confessed 
and took the sacrament, and sent the young 
woman away. I admit that my heart ached for 
her, Signorina; with loss and sin both on her 
she must have been very desolate. But such 
people, always go to convents — and that is an 
advantage in having convents; though I hear 
that Vittorio Emmanuelo is going to break up 
all such institutions.” 

“But suppose Ser. Nicole had been really 
married to this young person. Signora ?” said 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


151 


Honor, mindful of Mrs. Bruce’s letter, which 
had told her Madame Forano’s side of the story. 

Impossible ! He would then have brought 
her to us. We would have received her with 
joy, and hoped for the continuance of our 
house. Do not let us speak of it, Signorina.” 

Pardon me, dear Marchesa ; do let me 
speak, for I have heard of this story before, and 
I heard that Ser. Nicole was married.” 

The Marchesa trembled. 

“ O Signorina ! do not distress me with mere 
suppositions. Do you know anything of this ? ” 

“ I heard on good authority as I think, that 
Ser. Nicole married in England, but the lady 
was not of his church. The marriage was legal 
in England — a civil marriage as you would say 
— but it was not legal here, and the ceremony 
was not re-performed.” 

“ But, Signorina, a marriage is a marriage. 
These little wicked diversities of human law 
cannot be regarded in the eyes of God,” said the 
Marchesa, with that common sense for which 
Ser. Jacopo praised her. ^‘A woman married in 
one land must be esteemed as married in all 
lands. What, is it not cruel that she must lose 


152 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

her rig^hts, her honor, her name, merely by 
crossing a boundary ! I would have recognized 
a wife once, as a wife always — a wife in one land, 
a wife everywhere.” 

But, Marchesa, your church does not call 
civil marriage legal, and I heard that Ser. Nicole 
waited for his wife to enter his church freely 
that they might be remarried; he waited — and 
it became too late.” 

“ Signorina,” said the Marchesa, much moved, 
“ this is very grievous ; yet more my heart com- 
passionates that poor wife, whose estate was 
denied when , she was a stranger in a strange 
land. Nothing in this world is perfect; our 
priests are not perfect, our church itself is not 
perfect. I know this, because our church has 
consented to evil ; she has put men to death for 
conscience sake ; their conscience may be 
wrong, but that is no reason why they should be 
burnt. Our church cannot be right when she 
burns men, because burning men is a thing 
wrong in itself; so our church is wrong when 
she denies a woman’s marriage, a marriage that 
was meant to be legal, and was legal where it 
was performed. Oh, Signorina! where can that 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 153 

poor woman be? We would have received her. 
Oh, Nicole! how could you, on your dying bed, 
reject your wife? ” 

“ He did not, Marchesa ; she was with him 
when he died. She is now with her parents 
in England, recognized there as the widow 
Forano.” 

The Marchesa began to weep. 

‘‘ Here has been a very cruel deed. Padre 
Innocenza has greatly deceived us. Doubtless 
he did not recognize the marriage; he is very 
hard on heresy, and that blinds him to j ustice ; 
but he knows our way of thinking. He should 
have told us the truth, that we might have con- 
soled that bereaved one before she left Italy.” 

Perhaps I was wrong to disturb you with 
this story,” said Honor. 

^‘No; if this is the truth, it is right that I 
should see the memory of Nicole free from what 
rested in my mind as a blot on him. Besides, 
one that has suffered so much as that poor lady 
should not be esteemed by me as a light-minded 
young person, when she was a faithful and deso- 
late wife. Dear Signorina, will you come with me 
to the chapel? I will show you Nicole’s tomb.” 


154 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Honor took Michael’s hand and went with 
the Marchesa to the little Chapel of the As- 
sumption,” where all the Foranos had been 
buried during several centuries, their tombs 
being in little chapels on either side the nave and 
transept. The newest tomb was that of Nicole. 
The childless Marchese had expended, in spite 
of his poverty, a large sum on the monument, 
and a full-length statue of Nicole, wrapped in a 
cloak, had been sculptured in Florence. This 
snowy image of death lay on a block of dark 
marble ; a wreath of faded flowers hung over the 
feet. 

“ It is a perfect likeness of our Nicole — a 
light-hearted, loving, thoughtless boy. Alas ! 
why, why did he die so young ? ” cried the 
Marchesa. 

As the two ladies stood looking on the tomb, 
the fearless Michael, with a child’s curiosity, 
climbed, unnoticed, on the block of dark 
marble until he had seated himself behind the 
head of the statue, the face being turned from 
him. Eager to see, he put his plump brown 
hand upon the marble throat, and, bending 
over, his glowing olive cheek almost touched 


THE MAE CHE SE FOE A NO. 


155 


the cheek of the sculpture, and his bright eyes 
gazed into the unseeing eyes of the image of 
Nicole. 

Thus there appeared a startling picture of 
life and death ; the child, brilliant, glowing, 
eager, all the world opening before him, interro- 
gating with his looks the cold, white, insensible 
semblance of him whose life had ended in its 
earliest prime. 

Honor quietly lifted the boy to the floor, and 
reproved him with a look ; the Marchesa went 
sobbing to the steps before the high altar, where 
she knelt to pray. 

On the following morning the Marchese ap- 
peared with his wife at the Pavilion, and ques- 
tioned Honor concerning her knowledge of 
Nicole’s wife, and her story. Honor told him 
that she had the history from an American lady, 
under whose care Madame Forano had returned 
to London, and that she could give Madame 
Forano’s present address. She said nothing of 
the date of that return, nor of the convent part 
of the story. 

“ It is of course idle to ask you if there was 
a child, Signorina,” said the Marchese; had 
there been we must have heard.” 


156 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

But, Signore, I understand that there was a 
child.” 

The Marchese turned very pale, and his wife 
became violently agitated. 

This is very important, Signorina. A child 
— Nicole’s child — would be nearly as old as 
your little lad; and is there such a child living? 
and are we left without an heir, with no young 
Forano in our home?” ^ 

“Signore,” said Honor, “I fear I have done 
wrong to mention what I know. I cannot tell 
you whether the child is living or dead — ^proba- 
bly dead; and, since I must tell you all, the 
lady was a Jewess, and Jews are especially ob- 
noxious to your church; while since her 
troubles in this country, Madame Forano has 
becorhe very strict in her own religion.” 

“A Jewess?” said the Marchese, “of good 
family and position ? ” 

“Very good indeed: of wealth, and superior 
refinement and education.” 

Being further questioned. Honor told all that 
she knew of Judith’s history, and promised to 
send the Marchesa an Italian translation of Mrs. 
Bruce’s letter. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 157 

“The child,” said the Marchese, “is undoubt- 
edly dead. There would be no object in pre- 
tending so, if it were living. There is no one to 
be harmed by its life — no other heir — and we 
could have brought it up in the church properly. 
Putting the widow in a convent was merely 
an earnest but ill-advised effort of Padre Inno- 
cenza to convert her. He had no right to use 
coercion, but you know priests feel that the 
saving of the soul is worth everything.” 

Honor had hinted nothing about the church 
desiring to be the Forano heir; indeed, perhaps 
she had heard nothing of the kind. The idea 
certainly never entered the mind of the Mar- 
chese, who fully accepted the story of the babe’s 
dying at the hospital and being there buried. 

“It is a great loss to us,” he said, “but all 
this ignorance of it hitherto, arises from Padre 
Innocenza not accepting any marriage made 
outside of his church. I don’t condemn his 
way of thinking, but I do not share it. And as 
for the Jew, I could get over that, if we could 
but have had a Forano to be the comfort of our 
old age.” 

However, that evening the Marchese sent for 
14 


158 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Gulio. The excellent young man expected 
some discussion of vines and orchards ; but he 
was never unprepared for anything that hap- 
pened, and when the question of his late master’s 
marriage was sprung upon him he retained his 
presence of mind. 

Gulio, your master, Nicole, brought a lady 
with him from England,” said the Marchese. 

''Si, Signore,” said Gulio. 

"Was he married to that lady?” 

Gulio shrugged his shoulders to his ears. 

"It was not my business to question Ser. 
Nicole of his private affairs.” 

" But he spoke to her and of her as his wife ? ” 

" Possibly, Signore. I do not deny it.” 

"Why did you not inform me of this, Gulio?” 

"Signore, an English marriage does not always 
go for a marriage here — not if Holy Church, 
has not blessed it. The Padre Innocenza did 
not take it for legal, and who am I, to dispute 
him? Moreover consider, illustrissimo, I have 
no more right to tell Ser. Nicole’s secrets when 
he is dead than when he was living. Gulio 
Ravi’s soul becomes the grave of knowledge 
which a Forano desires to bury. Did Ser. Nicole 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 159 

tell you of the Signora from England? No? 
Then surely the poor Gulio must not be the 
first to tell it ! ” 

**But, Gulio, what about the child?” de- 
manded the Marchese. 

‘‘ Oh, Signore ! I know nothing at all.” 

‘^Is the child dead, Gulio?” 

“I heard so,” said the cautious servant. 

** Do you believe so ? ” 

“Oh, yes, excellenza; I believe all that I 
hear.” 

“That is very foolish, Gulio.” 

“All that I hear from good people. Si, si, 
Signore, do not distress ygurself. The child — I 
hope is happy; probably it was baptized.” 
Gulio bowed, and was about to leave the room, 
when his soul was rent by seeing a tear rolling 
over the old Marchese’s cheek. He pretended 
not to notice, but said: “May I ask your excel- 
lenza a question on my own account ? I have 
had some business with these vittadini* which 
troubles me. If I make a promise — take an 
oath — must I keep it, even if I repent of it ? ” 

“ Why, surely you must, Gulio.” 


City people. 


160 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

I make two contrary oaths, must I keep 
both ? ” 

Let me warn you against such dangerous 
doings. But you must keep both, just so far as 
you possibly can.” 

^‘At any sacrifice, excellenza?” 

“At any sacrifice, Gulio.” 

“ It may turn out badly, caro Signore.” 

“You should have thought of that before- 
hand.” 

“ But suppose I have been entrapped ? ” 

“You must be more wary in future. Keep 
your promises, Gulio.” 

“ Padrone, Signore.* Buona notte. Signore, 
you have said.” 

Most innocent, and unsuspicious of his race, 
the Marchese Forano went to his priest with his 
story, and sent this priest to Padre Innocenza 
to ask for further information, and if he knew 
Nicole’.s child to be dead. 

Now Signore Forano’s priest knew this whole 
history from the beginning, and was one of the 
plotters with Padre Innocenza. He went from 
the Marchese to Sta. Maria Maggiore on the 


* Thanks, sir. Good-night j it rests with you. 


THE MARCHESE FORANO. 


161 


hills, ajid both he and Father Innocenza resolved 
sharply to dispute and deny the validity of Ni- 
cole’s marriage, and both were honest in their 
views ; they did not believe there could be valid 
marriage outside of Holy Church. 

Had the old Marchese gone himself to ask 
about the child I do not know what the Padre 
Innocenza, with his softening heart, would have 
said : but to the priest from Villa Forano he 
• remarked : 

• “ Well, we cannot go back on what we have 
done.’’ 

“ Cospetto ! I should say not ! My coming is 
a mere farce.” 

“And of course the child could not be found 
if it were living; and there is hardly a doubt but 
that it is dead by this time.” 

“ Pur troppo ! ” said his confrere ; “ well, I 
hope this ends the story, and that we shall hear 
no more of Nicole, and the evil-minded English 

Jew, and their bambino.” 

14* L 


CHAPTER VL 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 

“ Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched 
With woeful agony, 

Which forced me to begin my tale, 

And then it left me free.” 

T hat GuHo Ravi should be troubled by 
some prickings of any little remnant of 
conscience that was left him after thirty years 
of very hard wear is not surprising; and that 
he should, in his own crooked and ingenious 
fashion, seek instruction from the Marchese 
Forano, the only man whom he loved or vene- 
rated, seems natural. But what shall we say if 
called to contemplate Padre Innocenza, troubled 
in his conscience and taking his natural enemy, 
Dr. Polwarth, for his father confessor ! But such 
a spectacle must present itself, and would be 
immediately under our gaze were not our 

vision first intercepted by the shrine built 
( 162 ) 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA, 163 

where four roads met, by the late Marchesa 
Forano. 

It is in the latter part of a September after- 
noon. As the sun nears the sea, his beams are 
shorn of their heat ; a soft breeze wakes from the 
slumber that seized it in the fervid noon, and 
now goes abroad on errands of mercy ; so, 
wooed by the softening light, those who have 
lingered in shady places all day, come out in the 
wake of the breeze. We see approaching the 
Pavilion from the eastern road a young man with 
a pack on his shoulders, and a bundle covered 
with oiled silk in his hands. Arriving at the 
shrine he gladly avails himself of a seat and puts 
his pack by his side. Immediately after the 
door of the Forano vineyard opens, and Gulio 
appears. He is in no holiday glory, but in 
working costume: leathern leggins, shoes made 
of undressed hide drawn together with thongs, 
clay-colored shirt and breeches, wide, green 
belt, and flapping straw hat of domestic manu- 
facture, with his curls moistened . by the sweat 
of labor, a red silk kerchief loosely knotted 
about his smooth, brown throat, full of easy 
good nature, even we, who know his moral 


164 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

idiosyncrasies, must regard Gulio with some 
pleasure. He has been peeping through the 
enormous keyhole of his vineyard gate, and 
seeing Nanni pass, has expected him to rest in 
the Pavilion, and has hastened out for a gossip. 
The two young men exchange remarks on the 
warm day, the roads, the advancing season. 
Gulio questions: “Whence do you come? What 
have you for sale?” But now, from the road 
leading from the Villa Ameta, come Assunta 
and Master Michael. Nanni at once recognizes 
the “comely maiden.” 

“A happy evening, Signorina. I have had 
the pleasure of seeing you before.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t remember where,” remon- 

% 

strates Assunta. 

“Yonder in the city — at the bottega of Sen 
Jacopo. I had the honor of mending a pair of 
slippers for you.” 

“ I don’t remember any pair of slippers that 
wore especially better than the others,” said 
Assunta; with a little toss of her head. 

“ It was not for want of my good will and 
good wishes, Signorina,” suggested Nanni, 
meekly; and Assunta is passing on, but he 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 165 

detains her. “ I have many things cheap and 
good in my pack — would you deign to look at 
them?” 

“ Pardon ; I need nothing, and have no money 
with me.” 

“But I need things! I have money!” 
shouts Michael, breaking loose from the maid 
and diving into his pocket for coins, presently 
bringing up from the depths two ten centime * 
pieces. “See, Assunta, I will buy things for 
you and me.” 

And so, as Michael rushes to patronize, and 
Nanni readily undoes his pack, Assunta must 
needs stop. Gulio feels compelled to say some- 
thing ciyil. 

“ Pray, Signorina Assunta, will you kindly 
choose a ribbon and let me present it to you ? ” 

At this Nanni throws an uneasy look at 
Gulio ; but Assunta says, with a little tartness : 

“ Padrone, Ser. Gulio, I buy my own ribbons.” 

“But just one this time in memory of old 
days,” says Gulio. 

“ If old days are worth anything they can be 
remembered without ribbons ; if they are worth 

* Five centimes equal an American cent, an English half-penny. 


166 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A HO. 

nothing let them be forgotten,” replies the sage 
Assunta; and Nanni greatly admires her wisdom. 

Meanwhile Michael has purchased a toy with 
half his money ; and it is truly wonderful what 
treasures he finds himself able to buy for As- 
sunta with the other half. The girl, however, is 
wise ; she is unallured by the singularly good bar- 
gains, and tries to turn the boy’s mind from them. 
Nanni, who has been covertly watching her, says : 

“ Stay ; I have in my small parcel what may 
please,” and opens the oiled silk, showing a 
variety of little books, and some tracts on 
colored paper. “ Two of these, sir, for your ten 
centimes,” and he holds out several. Assunta 
is not loath to show that she can read, so she 
selects two for Michael to buy for her. To 
these Nanni adds a little tinted sheet with a 
fancy border and a hymn printed thereon — a 
hymn dear to all believers, “The Rock of 
Ages” — in Italian. At once Assunta under- 
stood who this peddler was. 

“Oh, you are Ser. Jacopo’s brother-in-law! 
Monna Lisa told me of you ; ” and she flashed 
on him a look of pleasure and confidence that 
filled Nanni’s soul with happiness. 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


167 


You will accept the hymn, Signorina?” he 
said ; ** and it has such a lovely tune — I might 
show you how.it goes.” 

He moved a little, holding the paper, and As- 
sunta sat down beside him to hear the tune. 
Gulio, feeling that he had been too long silent, 
said : 

Do, Signore, let us have a new tune, if you 
know one. I’ve sung mine until they are quite 
worn out.” 

So Nanni began — 

Roccia de’ secoli,” 

and presently Assunta found herself able to join 
him, and Gulio beat time and hummed in con- 
cert, and the sweet harmony floated on the 
evening air. 

“ I^avvero ! ” cried Gulio, “ that is charming ; 
quite better than — 

‘ Com’ e gentil, 

La notte a mezzo April ! ’ ” 


As they sing the hymn once, and then begin 
it again, Nanni hands Gulio a copy. Now Gulio 
cannot read, but he took the paper with calm- 


168 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

ness, and followed in humming the tune, with 
his eyes fixed on the page. During the singing 
several contadini come from various roads, and 
pausing to listen and look, augment the little 
group at the shrine. Nanni, being heartily en- 
coredy sings one or two other hymns, and then 
some of his auditors buy pins, needles, and other 
small wares. Next the news from Florence is 
asked after, and Vittorio Emmanuelo is freely 
praised or blamed — praised, generally, for what 
he has done for Italy, ’while it is confidently 
predicted that judgments will fall on him for dis- 
obedience to the church. As the talk pro- 
ceeds, Nanni opens that little book which he 
carries in his waistcoat pocket. One of his ad- 
mirers cries : 

“Anything new there. Signore ? 

“Just a little story,” replies Nanni. 

“ Let us have it, by all means. A love tale, I 
hope,” says a girl. 

Nanni begins, “‘What woman having ten 
pieces of silver, if she lose one piece — ’ ” 

“ Oh, but that would be a loss,” says Gulio. 

“‘Doth not light a candle and sweep the 
house — ’ ” 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


169 


siy'" cries a woman, “ in every crack and 
corner, cospettoy 

‘‘ ‘And seek diligently until she find it! ” 

“She would be a fool else,” says a vine- 
dresser; “a piece of silver does not grow on 
every bush,” 

“ ‘And when she hath found it — ’ ” 

“ Ecco / I’m glad it’s found. I feared it was 
quite gone,” said a woman. 

“ ‘ She calleth her friends and her neighbors 
together — ’ ” 

^‘Altrof she will do well to lock her ten 
pieces up first, unless she wants another search,” 
sneers Gulio. 

“‘Saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found 
the piece which I had lost’ ” 

“Ah, davvero ! and they have a bottle of 
wine, and they are glad,” adds the vine-dresser. 

So Nanni’s voice grows more solemn as he 
concludes : 

“ ‘ Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the 
presence of the angels of God over one sinner 
that repenteth.’ Oh, my brothers, we are all 
sinners before God. Our hearts accuse us, and 
God is greater than our hearts, and knows what 
15 


170 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

we know not ; calls that sin which we know not 
as sin remembers against us what we have for- 
gotten. Then, how very guilty are we before 
him. Then, when we feel our guilt, and go to 
blessed Jesus for his pardon, for his cleansing 
blood, then are we saved from our lost estate, 
and there is joy not only in our hearts, but in 
heaven. Do not forget this, amiciy but be found 
in Christ.” 

After a little silence the group begins to 
break up. 

Chey chel^ whispers Gulio in Nanni’s ear, 
“ you are Vaudois-bitten, my friend. Well for 
you that the Vaudois are free to-day.” 

Assunta shook hands with Nanni, and con- 
tinued her walk with Michael. 

The Marchesa and Honor had passed slowly 
by, and heard Nanni’s last words. 

“How odd,” said the Marchesa, “to hear 
any one speaking of religion on a Tuesday, on 
the roadside ! ” 

“And why odd, Marchesa?” asked Honor. 

“ Why, dear me, religion does not seem made 
for that.” 

“And would you mind telling me just what 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


171 


religion does appear to you to belong to and 
to be?” 

The Marchesa, mused a little to collect her 
thoughts. 

“ Religion appears to me something for Sun- 
day morning, and for the hour of death. It also 
includes performing those little duties of prayer 
and penance which our priest sets us in con- 
fession. There are other duties which, I think, 
belong rather to our humanity than to religion, 
as benevolence, kindness to the poor and sick, 
honesty, industry, the. protection of the rich over 
the common people, watching over our servants. 
Thus if we are kind to our fellow-beings, and 
use our common sense,. and do not disobey the 
church, I think that is our duty in life. Some 
go farther, and say we must believe all that the 
church believes, and must consider the church 
incapable of error. Now, / do not go so far as 
that. I cannot say I believe all that the church 
does, for there may be parts of that belief of 
which I am ignorant; and if I knew them, my 
common sense might not accept them. So I 
cannot believe the church incapable of error, for 
history tells me she has done what my common 
sense calls wrong.” 


172 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

(Had the Marchesa lived earlier she would 
likely have died for this exercise of her common 
sense.) , • 

^‘And what do you think of God and heaven, 
dear Signora ? ” 

*Hn truth they are so far away, that they 
seldom come into my mind at all. Consider 
how far God is from us mortals. Sitting away 
on a throne, somewhere up above that distant 
sky; old, and nev'er young, and never older; 
approached only by Ser. Jesus, the blessed 
Mother, the Dove, and, perhaps, by some of the 
Saints, like holy Peter. But what think you ? ” 

“ Something very different. To me, Mar- 
chesa, religion is the daily living in, and with 
the blessed Lord Jesus. He is God, one with 
the Father; where he is the Father is, and 
heaven is. I believe that Jesus atones for my 
sin, so that through him I can enter the pres- 
ence of the Father, and the Father himself 
loves me. I believe that Jesus by the Holy 
Spirit is always present to my soul, cleans- 
ing it from sin, teaching me what to do, over- 
coming Satan for me, comforting my sorrow, 
making my weakness strong. He is my com- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


173 


panion, my fellow-traveler, and as he leads me 
on through life I am safe, and by-and-by I shall 
come to death, and that will be shutting my 
eyes to this world, so that the eyes of my soul 
can open on the very face of Christ ; my voice 
will be silent here, my soul voice singing in 
heaven ; my flesh also shall rest in hope until 
Jesus brings it from the dead. Signora, this is 
a life worth living.” 

“ I have heard something — but not so good 
as this, of sorrowful but holy people, who lived 
in convents,” said the Marchesa, “ but you are 
bright and happy, and live in the world, and yet 
you do find this possible? you do so receive and 
realize Ser. Jesus?” She stopped and looked 
earnestly at Honor. 

“Signora, believe me, I am giving you a 
simple, actual experience.” 

“ There is one very comfortable thing about 
you Protestant women,” said the Marchesa. 
“You make a practice of speaking the truth — 
one can depend on what you say. Besides, 
Signorina, I have always seen something in you 
different from other people — a joy, a rest, a dili- 
gence : this explains it.” 


174 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

''But, dearest Marchesa, this is no singular 
experience ; you can have it if you want it — if 
you fix your desires on the Lord Jesus, and ask 
him to dwell in your soul, and lead you in your 
daily life.” 

" How do I know he would hear me ?” 

" Would you truly desire such a presence, 
Marchesa?” 

"Oh, unspeakably, Signorina; it would be 
heavenly.” 

"Then your very desire for it is an earnest of 
obtaining it, for such desires come from God 
alone — not from our hearts, not from the Evil 
One.” 

The Marchesa made no reply, but concluded 
the walk absorbed in thought. She did not 
again speak to Honor on this theme during that 
year. 

The next day Nanni called at the Villa 
Anteta. He was there several times before the 
family returned to the city, in the middle of 
October. Uncle Francini went back to the 
Palazzo Borgosoia very happy. He had covered 
a great canvas with a scdne from the lovely 
" Vineyard Forano,” and had used Gulio, As- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 175 . 

m 

sunta, Michael, and other handsome people as 
models for his figures. The Marchese Forano 
had visited the picture and praised it every day, 
and Uncle Francini had already promised it to 
a patron in New York. 

By this time the Marchesa Forano had written 
a long letter to Judith Forano, telling her that 
the Marchese and herself recognized her mar- 
riage, that they mourned the concealment that 
had been used to them, and that they deplored 
the loss of the child, who should have been 
their heir, with a grief hardly second to her 
own. The Marchesa said that the evidence of 
the child’s death was conclusive ; they wished 
it were not; if it were not, they would search 
Italy for the last of the Foranos. 

Judith had turned all the bitterness of an 
intense nature against Italians and the church, 
from which she had suffered such cruelties. 
She received the Marchesa’s letter with wrath, 
and would have either ignored it or answered in 
person had not her father’s calrner judgment for- 
bidden either course. 

As David Lyons insisted on a civil reply 
being sent within a reasonable time, Judith at 


176 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

last took the letter to Mrs. Bruce, who was yet 
staying in London, and for whom she had a 
warm affection. Mrs. Bruce had heard of the 
Marchesa from Honor Maxwell. She is surely 
a good, kind woman, Judith,” said Mrs. Bruce; 
“and if you had only known her when you 
first went to Italy, all your misfortunes but the 
loss of your husband would have been averted. 
This letter is the outpouring of a generous 
heart? * 

“ But how ready she is to believe my boy 
dead! ” 

“ But what strong grounds she has for believ- 
ing it” 

“I don't believe it I will one day, just as 
soon as I can get my family persuaded to send ' 
my brother with me, go to Italy and seek for 
my boy! ” 

“ Suppose you do ? Consider then what an 
invaluable ally this Marchesa would be ; her 
heart enlisted for your success, her home open 
to you, her experience at your disposal, her in- 
fluence, her recognition of your relationship : can 
you throw all this away? You had better se- 
cure her friendship.” 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


177 


This was a new view, and Judith yielded to 
it; but when she began to write to the Marchesa, 
and considered that she wrote to her dead hus- 
band’s most loving relatives, that she wrote to 
those who mourned her child, the reserve of her 
proud heart broke down, and she poured forth 
a passionate story of her Nicole’s last hours, of 
her lost babe, of her fears, her hopes — such a 
letter that both the Marchesa and her husband 
wept plentifully over it. 

Indeed, the Marchese sent for Gulio, and, 
saying that he had a letter from Ser. Nicole’s 
widow, undertook to read some of it, but broke 
down in sobs, the tears raining over his cheeks 
and upon his gray beard as he cried : 

“Oh, Gulio, if we only had had that little 
child ! ” 

Gulio fled out of his master’s presence, ran to 
his room like one. distraught, began to search 
through his possessions ; tore from his neck the 
bit of silver hanging on a cord, tramped it under 
foot, and cried, “ I will reveal all ! ” but as he 
turned to go from the room, a fit of trembling 
seized him, a sweat of horror broke forth from 
his whole body, a superstitious agony rent him, 

M 




178 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

he saw his soul imperiled — as it could never be 
by lies, or other vice — he seemed in the clutch 
of a demon, his head reeled. He dashed into 
the open air, then to a height in his vineyard 
which looked toward “ Sta. Maria Maggiore of 
the hills,” and there Gulio shook his fist, and 
foamed, and, we are loath to write it, cursed 
and swore about Padre Innocenza until he was 
hoarse. Padre Innocenza held Gulio’s soul in 
awful chains, the falling tears of his good master 
had almost rent them off, but now they were 
riveted closer than before. 

The Marchese recovered his outward serenity, 
and Gulio by degrees forgot the impression 
which had been made. . 

And so the winter came, and we find our- 
selves in all its chill, watching Padre Innocenza 
coming from the hills. 

By the time that the priest thus comes from 
his parish, it is indeed the beginning of another 
year, for it is February, 1862. 

Caution is largely developed among priests, 
and Innocenza has a superabundant supply. 
Reaching the city he pays his first visit to 
Father Zucchi. Now that a priest should do no 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


179 


work in his parish is legitimate ; that he should 
labor among his people is suspicious ; and pres- 
ently Father Zucchi says : 

“ I think I have heard something about your 
people coming out to church lately.” 

“ So they do,” replies Innocenza. I don’t 
know any better place for them than the church, 
and so I make them come. If I’m teaching 
them, I know what they’re learning.” 

That’s right,” says Zucchi ; there is a deal 
of heresy and fanaticism abroad now-a-days. I 
wish we had the Grand Duke back; we’ll be 
starved out else. Do your folks pay their 
dues ? ” 

“ Yes; they pay more than usual, and they all 
keep right to me and the chapel. I don’t hear 
of any straying off.” 

Very good,” replies the cathedral priest ; 

I must look to my people about that. Here 
we have the Vaudois undermining on the one 
hand, and that heretic Polwarth, bold as brass, 
on the other, and Libei^alisin preached on every 
corner, to mean throwing off religion altogether. 
That Polwarth is a very vile man — did you ever 
see him ? ” 


180 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Yes; IVe handled him pretty roughly once 
or twice.” 

And then Innocenza had a glass of wine with 
his brother ecclesiastic, and, night having fallen, 
he left him, as Padre Zucchi supposed, to get his 
supper at a trattoria. On the contrary, Inno- 
cenza darted along in the shadow of the houses 
until he found himself once more in Dr. Pol- 
warth’s study. He seemed less fluent than 
usual, but in a moment or two asked for the 
Doctor’s Italian Bible, and stood reading differ- 
ent parts of it for nearly a quarter of an hour. 
Then he dropped it on the table, saying : 

“Yes, that’s a true copy. Tell me, do you 
accept all that book ? ” 

“ Every word of it,” said the Doctor. 

“And you hold such principles of honor, 
truth, humanity, as it teaches ? ” he asked, nerv- 
ously. 

“ Certainly I do, and try with all my heart to 
practice them.” 

“ There’s one good in you heretic priests,” 
said Innocenza, “ one can trust your word.” He 
stood with his back to the Doctor looking into 
the fire for some time, then turning suddenly, 


THE PADRE JNNOCENZA. 


181 


he exclaimed : I come to you a man dis- 

tressed, miserable, hopeless, torn by a thousand 
doubts — ” 

Perhaps for that I should rather be glad than 
grieve,” said the pastor. “ If God has troubled 
you he can also console you.” 

“And how can I get that consolation ? ” urged 
the priest. 

“By prayer — prayer to Jesus only, without 
any intermediary.” 

“And is that all the help you can offer me ?” 

“ It is all, and enough. If you truly desire 
help, fully believe that Jesus can give it to you 
and go directly to him, that is all.” 

“ Fool that I was to hope for help ! ” cried 
Innocenza. “ You send me to dry streams and 
broken reeds. What! do you count me an 
idiot? Do you suppose I did not see this way? 
and would I not be likely to try it before I 
humbled myself to come to you ? Why, I tell 
you I desire help, with a very passion of desire ! 
I do believe Jesus is able to help ! I have gone 
to him only, a thousand times ; but what better 
am I for going ? He will not hear me, will not 
help me ; he is as cold as our dead saints.” 

16 


182 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

Dr. Polwarth looked at his visitor fixedly 
some moments ; then said, sternly : 

“ I see ; you are not willing to pay the price.” 

“ What price ? Hah ! have I not heard that 
ours was the religion of price ? of earning things 
of God ? and yotirs was the religion of free grace, 
of unbought salvation ? and now you say — 
price! ” 

“ But do you know,” persisted Dr. Polwarth, 
“what it will cost you to get this help of 
Christ?” 

“ No ! ” shouted Innocenza. “ I thought it was 
something free, and I wanted something free.” 

“Listen to me. You wanted Christ’s peace, 
on your own terms, not on his ; you demanded 
amity with him while your bosom hoarded un- 
righteous gains, while your hands were full of 
forbidden fruits. Peace comes from being filled 
with Christ. We must be emptied of self : we 
must relinquish the wages of ungodliness before 
there is room within us for him. God has 
dealt with you ; he has opened your eyes to see 
a need of Christ ; he has given you a desire for 
Christ ; he may have even shown you by what 
things you keep Christ out of your heart, yet 
you will not yield them.” 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


183 


No, no. I protest to you I would give up 
everything,” said the priest 

“ You may have evil practices ; you may have 
certain falsehoods, certain self-indulgences, cer- 
tain practices forbidden in God’s law, which you 
will not relinquish, which you desire to keep, 
while you have Christ.” 

“ No,” said Innocenza ; “ I am honest in my 
speech, moderate in my wishes, decent in pri- 
vate life. I am willing to give up all evil habits 
which God may show me, which you may 
search out.” 

“ Perhaps you know that you have been teach- 
ing errors of doctrine. You may have taught 
as God’s word, what now you see not to be in 
God’s word, and you are not willing to alter 
your teachings, to provoke the wrath of your 
church. You want to be secretly for Christ, 
but outwardly as you have been. And this is 
what it must cost you to get peace ; you must 
prove the sincerity of your desire for Christ by 
readiness to have none but him. Have you 
bargained that you must keep what you have, 
and g^t Christ too ? ” 

“ No. I have begun to teach as I have had 


184 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

light, and if I could only get this peace I would 
willingly abandon my position. I would cease 
teaching error — I would publicly retract error.” 

“ Perhaps you have had some plan for your 
future spiritual life. Will you tell me what it 
was that you wanted and expected ? ” 

“Your letter,” said Innocenza, “stirred the 
very depths of my soul ; your teachings com- 
mended themselves to my mind. I said : Here 
is a religion worthy of God as its propounder ; 
here is a religion which, while loftier than our 
reason, does not contradict reason. In the 
light of the truths which you presented I saw 
what untruths I had held as sacred. But then 
I could not understand what my church was, 
and how it had grown, and been held as the 
church, if, instead of being the exponent of God 
on earth, it was his antagonist. Your second 
paper sent me to the Scriptures for explanation 
of this. When once I opened the Bible I read 
on as one fascinated. I have gone through the 
Holy Book three times. I felt that I lacked 
true piety, the real peace of God. This I must 
get from Christ only. I besought his help. I 
thought I should receive assurance of my par- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


185 


don and acceptance and have joy in him ; this 
would make me strong. I should then call my 
flock together and tell them what errors I in my 
darkness had taught, and what was the true 
way ; I would exhort them ’ to try and search 
the Scriptures and examine their faith. Then I 
meant to go to England and America, where I 
could be more fully taught, and get something 
to do — for of course I could not stay in my 
parish, and I could get no work in Italy, where 
the priests would be ever on my track.” 

Padre Innocenza,” said Dr. Polwarth, “ I 
will deal plainly with you. I know in a measure 
what priests are. I must fear that in the ten 
years of your life as parish priest you have been 
a partner to some evil deeds. Look back ; are 
there lives ^yhich you have ruined ? are there any 
whom you have distrained of liberty ? is there 
any prisoner of your making? any family 
broken up by your means ? any soul persisting 
in sins which you have pretended to condone ? 
Will Christ give you peace while you refuse ac- 
tual repentance, withhold restitution ? If you 
are now continuing any deception by silence, 
God will not hear you. If you thus hold back 
16 * 


186 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

part of the price, evidently you are not ready to 
give up all for Christ — you are uselessly, hope- 
lessly lying to the Holy Ghost. Christ never 
rejects the soul which seeks him in sincerity 
and truth. If you cry for help, and are un- 
helped, believe me, the fault is not Christ’s, but 
yours ; you are not ready to yield all on your 
part, but you want all on his part. Look back 
on your life and consider this question.” 

What ! ” said Padre Innocenza, must I not 
only cease from sin, but go back to undo the 
past ? I thought Christ would atone for that. 
And do you ask me to repair these errors my- 
self? ” 

“ Christ will atone — you cannot. But if 
there is anything which, in outward act, you can 
do to make restitution, he demands it. He will 
not pardon a man for theft while the man re- 
solves to live on the proceeds of that theft. 
Remember how Zaccheus proved his sincerity ; 
he said: Hf I have taken anything from any 
man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.’ ” 

“But there are some deeds which I cannot 
now undo.” 

“ God only demands the possible, but he de- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


187 


mands that absolutely. Consider that for years 
you have lived in darkness ; God has enlight- 
ened you ; these desires, these strivings of soul 
are his divine gift to you ; they are an earnest of 
what he is able and willing to do; but you 
know what David says : ‘ If I regard iniquity in 
my heart, the Lord will not hear me! Ask God 
to search your heart for these sins that are be- 
tween you and him ; ask his help to do what he 
demands. Cease asking selfishly for peace ; up 
and do your duty, and peace will come.” 

“ Well,” said Padre Innocenza, “ my life, in 
God’s light, looks bad enough; but let me tell 
you, that most of my sins have been of the heart, 
and not so much of outward act. Many of 
the crimes common to my order have been un- 
shared by me. Some sins I would repair, but 
death has come between. My chief error has 
been a passionate zeal for my church, and an 
ambition to rise in her honors ; and the greatest 
sins of outward act have been committed to 
serve myself in my church — and perhaps I can- 
not repair them.” 

“Are you willing to try faithfully, continually, 
disregarding your own comfort, pride, profit, to 
do what is right as in the sight of God?” 


188 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“Perhaps, there is a way,” said Padre In- 
nocenza, half to himself, “in which I can set 
one matter right privately.” 

“ Privately or publicly, you must be willing to 
do your utmost.” 

“ Farewell,” said the priest, starting from his 
seat; “I wanted salvation, comfort,- peace, for 
nothing. Instead, you talk of what it will cost — of 
restitution, of duty. I am much disappointed.” 

The priest hurried along the street toward his 

f 

albergo, his soul in a greater tumult than before. 
At a crossing he ran across Nanni Conti, who 
had just left the Palazzo Borgosoia, where he 
had been paying a visit to Assunta. Nanni’s 
heart was happy — happier than ever; a little song 
was on his lips. The priest was most miserable ; 
ready to mutter a curse. Their ways in life 
should cross more than once. 

Nanni was happy as a humble follower of 
Christ; striving to live honestly with all men, 
and also to do good to all as he had oppor- 
tunity. He rejoiced also in fruit of his labor; 
he had brought the Gospel to his father’s house, 
and they had received it, and in their turn w'ere 
working in Christ’s service. Nanni was, more- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 189 

over, hopeful in regard to the future. He ex- 
pected within a few years to be ordained as an 
evangelist in the Vaudois Church, and perhaps 
to make his home in Barletta, with Assunta for 
his wife. Such were the visions which filled 
his mind when he ran against Padre Innocenza 
in the little dark street. 

At the same time Assunta, in the Palazzo 
Borgosoia, shared Nanni’s hopes and joy. Her 
present home was very pleasant, and she trusted, 
by Miss Maxwell’s instructions, to become more 
fitted for the life which seemed to lie before her. 
While Nanni was studying in Firenze and travel- 
ing about as colporteur, Assunta would improve 
mentally, in housekeeping, in sewing, and use 
her liberal wages in preparing the plenishing of 
her future home. So all seemed to be pros- 
pering well ; and when June came, with its 
oppressive heats, the household of Uncle Fran- 
cini again took up their abode in the Villa 
Anteta. 

Of course, the first visitors were the Marchese 
Forano and his wife, who rejoiced greatly in the 
return of last summer’s pleasant friends, although 
the sight of little Michael tore open the old 


190 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

wound about Nicole, and the loss of the little 
child. The Marchesa expressed a hope that 
she should see Honor, as before, at the Pavilion: 
“I so enjoy our morning talks,” she said; but 
there was evidently some new trouble or anxiety 
in her mind. This anxiety exhibited itself the 
next day when she met Honor. 

“Do you know, Signorina, I have never got 
out of my mind what you said about the con- 
stant presence of Christ and every-day religion. 
I see, now, religion should be in our daily lives, 
in all our thoughts. * I desire to have Jesus con- 
tinually with me : but how can I when I know 
almost nothing of him ? It would surprise you, 
Signorina cara, to be told how little I know of 
Ser. Jesus. I have heard that he was born in 
a carpenter’s house, and was very poor; and 
yet in the pictures the Madonna looks magnifi- 
cently rich.” 

“The pictures, you know, are a painter’s 
fancy, and are painted for ornament, and to 
show his skill. It is true that Jesus, for our 
sakes, became poor, and for us left the glor)^ 
of heaven.” 

“And he really did have twelve Apostles? 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


191 


and his mother lived as long as he did on earth? 
— is all that so, Signorina ? And then, of course, 
he lived in Rome, and spoke Latin?” 

^‘Your pardon, Marchesa: he was never in 
Rome. He lived in Palestine, and died at 
Jerusalem. He was born at a village near that 
city, and his grave, for three days, was in a 
garden of the city.” 

“And was he never at the Holy City of Rome ? 
And you think, Signorina, he did these miracles 
and good deeds we hear of?” 

“I am sure that he did — and very many, 
more.” 

“ How I wish I had some way of knowing 
all about him ! ” 

“ Signora, why not read his life, written fully 
and truly for us in the four Gospels ? ” said 
Honor, taking an Italian Testament from her 
pocket and holding it toward her. 

The Marchesa drew back. 

“ Oh, no, no ! That would only involve me 
in confusion. You educated women may be 
able to read such things safely — not Italian 
women like me. No, Signorina — but do you 
tell me what you know.” 


192 THE OATH KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

“And yet, Marchesa, I draw all my knowledge 
of Christ from, this very book. I only tell you 
what is here.” 

“ But you are wise to know what to accept, 
what to reject.” 

“ But I reject nothing of it. I take the whole 
as God’s truth.” 

“Nevertheless, I cannot read it; but I have 
confidence in your word, and will be glad to 
hear what you tell me.” 

Honor sat in silent distress at finding her 
word regarded as safer, more truthful, more 
reliable than God’s word. The Marchesa’s eye 
fell on the picture of the Virgin. She said : 

“ Here is the Divine Mother, set by God for 
the especial help of us women ; I do know 
something of her. Do you pray to her, eh ? ” 

“ I have found no command to do so in the 
Bible,” said Honor. 

“Ca, ca! that proves it, you see. The Bible 
don’t tell all we need to know. That, I under- 
stand, is why Christ came : to teach us what had 
been, by carelessness or evil, left out of the 
Bible ; and the worship of his blessed mother 
was one of those things. *You see, the Jews 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 193 

were the holders of the Scripture, and they, 
being wrong, made some of the Scripture wrong. 
To this day, poor things, they don’t worship 
Madonna ; but do you do it ? ” 

“ But how could I expect her to hear so many 
prayers, from so many people of different tongues 
and countries, all at once ? ” 

“ Surely you believe that God can ? ” said the 
Marchesa, earnestly. 

Oh, to be sure,” replied Honor. 

“ Then,” said the Marchesa, triumphantly, 
Mary can. She is divine, divine like God and 
Christ. God can do all things. He made 
Mary for his helper, and she can do all things.” 
“Tell me, do your* priests teach you that? ” 

“ Surely. They tell us she can do all things ; 
they make her just like God in hearing and 
helping ; they say she has alf the power of di- 
vinity. Then my common sense tells me she 
must be divine, as God. Their teachings mean 
nothing else. I must believe that Mary is divine, 
or I must believe that she cannot do all that 
they say she can.” 

After this the Marchesa, although she had 

sought instruction, feared to accept it, and while 
17 N 


194 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

occasionally asking a question which showed 
what subject was uppermost in her mind, gen- 
erally strove to keep her conversation from 
taking a religious direction. 

This arousing of the Marchesa’s mind was a 
part of that singular and almost universal inter- 
est in religious matters which had previously 
begun in Italy. The dead were stirred into life. 
Italy had been one great cemetery of souls, over 
which prowled the priests, whose great anxiety 
was that those who were buried should give no 
signs of resurrection ; and yet, in spite of all 
their care, in that very charnel-pit life began to 
appear. As soon as the pressure of tyranny was 
partially relieved, by the union of Tuscany with 
the Italian Kingdom, evidences of life, which 
for ten years had been stirring here and 
there, became more numerous; men, bound 
hand and foot, in their grave-clothes, obeyed 
the voice, Come forth,” and stood above 
their graves waiting to be loosed and let go. 

When the Liberal Government secured its 
triumph and entered Rome, suddenly the work 
which had long been going on appeared in 
its fullness ; thousands flung off the yoke of 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


195 


bondage; whole churches sprung up where be- 
fore one inquirer had been hardly suspected; 
the fields showed so ripe to the harvest that 
laborers eno\igh could not be found to gather in 
the fruit. 

But our story has not reached that wonder- 
ful day, the entry into Rome — we are only in 
1862 — when people were questioning and won- 
dering, when the first awakenings of heart had 
begun here and there, among whom was our 
good Marchesa. She was *‘not far from the 
kingdom of God,” and her soul at this time 
seemed to be trembling on the threshold of 
light. 

But how different is the character of Gulio 
Ravi ! How can we discover in his crooked 
soul yearnings toward a straight path ? It 
is only as by accident that Gulio surprises 
us with such indications. The Marchesa sends 
him to the city on business, and Gulio is 
roving about on the bay, waiting to catch the 
little boat of a steamship to whose captain he 
has an errand. As Gulio thus hangs about the 
anchored steamship, he falls into conversation 
with Lugi, the man who rows him, and who is, 


196 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

indeed, an old acquaintance, having lived at Sta. 
Maria Maggiore, on the hills, in Sen Nicole’s 
day; and Lugi says: 

*‘'Davv&o^ Gulio, two years ago I was on a 
steamship myself, as waiter. Our ship went to 
England, but I could not get used to the sea, so 
I left her. However, one trip, I am sure we had 
on board the English woman whom Sen Nicole 
brought to Italy. So, the Marchese never found 
out about her? Poor thing, she was very 
beautiful ! ” 

I wish the Marchese had known of her ; she 
would have been saved the most of her trouble,” 
said Gulio. 

'^Altro! he would not have recognized the 
marriage.” 

“ Indeed, he would,” said Gulio ; he would 
have felt bound as the head of the family, and 
as a gentleman, to do so.” 

“ But, sicora^ the woman was a Jew! ” 

The • Marchese don’t hate Jews ; says we 
should like ’em same as other men : sicora^ 
perhaps more, for he says they are our human 
brothers, and also that the blessed Sen Jesus 
was a Jew.” 


THE PADRE TNN.OCENZA. 


197 


cospetto ! Ser. Jesus a Jew; am I an 
idiot?” cried Lugi. 

“It’s true. The Marchese explained it all to 
me, and he is a man of letters ; besides he is 
very curious in some things. He would not 
tell a lie for any price. But that is quite proper 
for him : he is a noble and in the Gold Book : no 
need for him to lie.” 

“But, Gulio, Ser. Jesus a Jew; che, che^ 
then the adorable Virgin must have been a — 
Jewess.” 

“ Exactly, Lugi, the Marchese explained that 
to me. They were the Jewish kings, born in the 
land of the Jews, and always lived there, died 
there, were Jews entirely, I assure you.” 

“What, then; was Ser. Jesus never in Italy, 
never in the Holy Rome, never using the Latin 
tongue sacred to Mass?” 

“Believe me, I have the word of the Mar- 
chese for it.” f . 

“ Hah, and since he is a gentleman and in the 
'Gold Book we can take his word any day before 
those fellows, the priests. There’s another item 
in my score against them. Why they teach us 
to hate and abuse Jews, because they are Jews, 
17 * 


198 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and hold the church right to slay them for their 
ra'ce, when if Sen Jesus is a Jew, and is bodily 
reproduced in the sacrament, he comes in Jew 
flesh. Then they say Rome is the holiest city, 
when if Sen Jesus was never there, the city 
where he was must be holiest. Beggar the 
priests, sicora !” 

But Rome, you know, is so holy as the seat 
of St. Peter, Lugi.” 

“Tutt, altro ; but Peter was only somebody 
because he was the apostle of Sen Jesus, and 
got from him the keys to keep.” 

“We weary ourselves about too high ques- 
tions,” said Gulio, “ and yet you make me think 
of what I heard from a young heretic named 
Nanni Conti, who has come about the Villa 
Forano this two years. He said, may the saints 
preserve us! that holiness is not in places nor in 
things, but is of God, and is something from 
him set in our souls. As, for instance, Lugi, it 
is not possible for a coat to be holy, as at 
Treves, nor for a foot-print to be holy, as on the 
Appian Way; but that we, our hearts, yours 
and mine, Lugi, may be holy, that God has 
commanded holiness, and so expects it. I shall 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


199 


never forget his words, ‘Be ye holy.’ Bene, 
bene, they are very troublesome to me. The 
idea that Gulio Ravi, whose outside may look 
well enough,” said Gulio, with a fresh flash of 
conceit, “but of whose inside the less said the 
better, must be holy before God, or meet God’s 
anger. Ecco, I wish I had never met that dis- 
astrous Nanni Conti.” 

This was the way the awakening Word 
spread slowly in Italy from lip to lip. This 
enfranchisement of religious thought began 
in Italy after the promulgation, in ’ 1848, of 
the statute for the “ Emancipation of the Wal- 
densians” by King Charles Albert, father of 
Victor Emmanuel. For twelve years the Word 
worked almost imperceptibly — and had its 
martyrs; then Victor Emmanuel entered Flor- 
ence, and for ten years the Word spread more 
evidently — and there were also martyrs. The 
year eighteen hundred and seventy saw full 
religious freedom, a free Gospel in the streets 
of Rome, streets voluntarily abandoned by the 
Pontiff ; let us hope that there will be no more 
martyrs. 

So it was that, in this decade, we see such 


200 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

divers characters as the March esa Forano, Sen 
Jacopo, Assunta, Gulio Ravi, and the Padre In- 
nocenza, all wrought upon in different fashions 
by the same truth. The Marchesa closed 
her ears voluntarily, lest she should depart 
from her old faith. Sen Jacopo and As- 
sunta received the Word with joy. Giilio’s 
shallow nature could not be deeply stirred. 
As for Padre Innocenza, the experience of Jacob 
at Peniel was reversed: Jacob held the angel 
and would not let him go until he received a 
blessing; the angel grasped the soul of Inno- 
cenza and would not relax the hold until his 
heart would yield to receive the benediction. 
Thus for months — from February to October — 
Padre Innocenza struggled in an overmastering 
clasp. 

The priest looked back over his life and 
saw sins past his helping, and rejoiced to leave 
them with God ; he saw other wrongs which it 
would cost his pride little to repair; he saw a 
wrong to Judith Forano, a sin by which he 
could now gain nothing, but which it shamed 
him sorely to confess or endeavor to remedy. 
Finally Padre Innocenza resolved to compro- 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


201 


mise the matter^poor fool, he thought he could 
compound his offence with God — he would 
make a restitution and save his own pride. 

Padro Innocenza went, therefore, to Forano, 
and as he did not desire to meet the family of 
the Marchese, he sent privately, on the edge of 
evening, to bid Gulio Ravi come to him at the 
shrine. Gulio went, not knowing whom he was 
to meet. Of all men he feared Padre Innocenza, 
the only priest with whom he had had particular 
dealings. Superstition held Gulio with awful 
chains, which intercourse with the Marchese 
had not unloosed. To Gulio, Padre Innocenza 
was a man able to bind his soul in hell, to cut 
from him all hope of heaven, to call demons 
from the pit if he so chose, to pursue him to 
madness ; a man who could, if angered, blight 
all his hopes and comforts, smite him with 
plagues, and by the mighty power of his cursing 
make him an astonishment to his fellow-men. 
Cold terror shook his soul when the voice of 
, Innocenza bade him — 

''Buona sera!' 

“ Well met, reverendissimo'' said Gulio. “ I 
have long been too busy to go to you for 


202 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

your blessing. I hope you are well, Excel- 
lenza ? ” 

“ Gulio, do you remember that several years 
ago, I gave you a commission — a bit of work to 
do for me ? ” said the priest, abruptly. 

Pardon, revefendissimo ! Did you not bid 
me obey and then forget all about it ? I obeyed 
— so much that, as you ordered, all is forgotten.” 

“ Figaro ! Ravi, you promised — swore to 
obey strictly my orders ! ” 

“ Siy siy Padre ! but swearing was needless ; 
my word is good as an oath.” 

“ BenOy Ravi, I gave you a babe to take to the 
Innocenti at Firenze. Tell me, Gulio, did you 
doit?” 

Rev erendissimOy you had my assurance of 
it when the affair was fresh in my mind,” re- 
monstrated Gulio. 

‘‘And I told you to leave no name, no token, 
no slightest clue.” 

“Your words refresh my memory. EccOy 
Signore, I took the child to Firenze. At the 
depot there I gave the woman who nursed it her 
ticket back. The child was in common folks* 
swaddling bands, and wrapped round with red 


THE PADRE INNOCENZA. 


203 


flannel. I made haste to the Hospital of the 
Innocenti. I rang the bell with fury; a holy 
sister appeared at a small window ; I thrust my 
basket in at the window. The sister began to 
speak — I turned ; the porter cried Signore ! — 
I fled ; the porter’s wife shrieked Ser., Ser. ! — I 
lost myself in a great crowd pouring from the 
Annunziata.” 

Then, Gulio, there was no clue, no possi- 
bility of discovery ? ” 

^^ReverendissimOy not the least. Cospetto / 
was I likely to disobey you ? ” 

Padre Innocenza, heavy of heart, walked two 
miles to his albergo. How could he know 
that what Gulio had told him was entirely 
fiction ? 


CHAPTER VII. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 

“ The wind bloweth where it list eth, and thou hearest the 
sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither 
, it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” 

E arly in the morning after his interview 
with Gulio, Padre Innocenza mounted his 
horse and set out from his albergo toward “ Sta. 
Maria Maggiore.” He rode slowly along, his 
head sunk on his breast, and his heart as down- 
cast as his head. Like Job, he cursed his day; 
he cursed also his training at the hands of that 
church which brings up her children in the 
paths of deceit. He appeared to think that, 
as a nursling of that church, his spiritual case 
was utterly hopeless, his sins past forgiveness, 
his condemnation written.' But in mind a? in 
matter nature seeks equilibrium ; and, as a rule, 
the soul which most swiftly and deeply de- 
scends into despair will in the rebound most 
( 204 ) 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 205 

illogically and unexpectedly reach heights of 
self-confident joy. Thus Padre Innocenza, from 
considering himself the undeniable heir of per- 
dition, suddenly began to ask himself what, after 
all, had he ever done that was so very evil ? As 
for badness, he was not half so bad as other 
priests ; while they were sensuous, besotted, su- 
perstitious, ignorant, he had been thoughtful, 
studious, active, decent. That Polwarth fellow 
merely undertook to condemn me, that he might 
elevate himself,” quoth Padre Innocenza ; and so 
saying, he held up his head and chirruped to 
his horse. 

In this more comfortable frame of mind the 
Padre began to reach the boundaries of his 
own parish; and as he passed, looks from the 
men friendly and honestly respectful, from the 
women of adoring reverence, from the little 
children of awe, as gazing on a superior being, 
cheered his very soul. He thought of the 
church, well filled each Sabbath with attentive 
audiences ; of the good counsels which he gave 
in private and in public ; of his recent diligent 
care for souls ; and, reviewing these things, he 
held his head higher yet, and felt that he 
18 


206 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

merited something of God — enough, indeed, to 
quite wipe out any errors of ignorance or mis- 
guided zeal which were in the past. In the 
light of these imaginations of his heart, Padre 
Innocenza braced himself to be henceforth the 
architect of his own spiritual fortunes. He did 
not expect, as some less acute minds have done, 
to regenerate the Church of Rome, but he meant 
to regenerate himself and the parish of Santa 
Maria Maggiore of the hills. To this end Padre 
Innocenza began a series of visitations of his 
flock. He went from house to house, to set all 
in good spiritual order. He insisted on having 
the children of the church gathered together for 
instruction, and when they so gathered, on Sab- 
bath afternoons, he taught them earnestly in 
Bible history, and had them learn the Lord’s 
Prayer, the Ten Commandments, and the seven 
Penitential Psalms. In the pulpit the Padre 
became more diligent in inculcating moral 
duties, and more particular in discourses on 
Bible history and biography (though the word 
Bible never passed his lips). He also under- 
took to be the rival of Hercules, for he set 
himself to purge the augean stables of the con- 
fessional. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 


207 


As soon as a Romanist becomes a little 
stirred in conscience, gets a little light, he 
betakes himself more rigorously to confession ; 
this is his only known outlet of spiritual 
pain and inlet of religious instruction and 
consolation. 

Since Padre Innocenza had begun to preach 
truth, even in his partial manner, to his people, 
attendance at the confessional had been more 
diligent; indeed the Padre was obliged to sit in 
the stall all of Saturday afternoon and for sev- 
eral hours of Sabbath morning to accommodate 
his penitents. 

In the confessional the Romish priest is af- 
forded by his church the largest liberty in the 
exercise of his natural characteristics. If he is 
of a depraved, sensual, gross, inquisitive nature, 
the church offers him ample scope for the indul- 
gence of his depravity; if he is of a temperament 
more refined, delicate, and devoid of petty curi- 
osity, he can limit his subjects of inquiry, ignore 
the liberties his church accords him, and confine 
himself to set or general forms. 

Padre Innocenza had always possessed more 
decency of mind than is common to Italian 


208 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

priests, or perhaps to priests anywhere; but 
hitherto he had been content to leave confession 
as a form. He now considered that he might 
make it a means of good. He set himself, 
therefore, to ferret out all deceit and dishonesty 
practiced in trade or in ordinary dealings, and 
demanded instead truth and fairness. He sought 
out all quarrels, to insist upon reconciliation; all 
disobedience to parents, to enforce subordina- 
tion. Had Padre Innocenza undertaken this 
rigorous use of the confessional before he began 
to teach his people, they would have resented it 
and rebelled against it. Active morality incul- 
cated in the confessional was a mere monstrosity 
in the Church of Rome. But these peasants 
now added to their customary veneration of the 
priest an intense devotion to Padre Innocenza 
personally, as a learned man, an almost saint, 
who treated them as rational beings, and really 
cared for them; therefore they submitted with 
some degree of grace to his unheard-of use of 
the tribunal of penance. 

Actively pursuing the path which he had 
marked for himself, our new reformer reached 
Christmas; and of course there were at his 


FALLEN LNTO HIS OWN TRAP. 


209 


church the usual mummeries — the manger, the 
babe, the waxen madonna: all the gewgaws 
which decorate a Popish Christmas. There was 
a sermon also, and here Padre Innocenza outdid 
himself. That Spirit which seemed to have 
left him for a time to his own devices again 
strove within him ; a new life flooded his 
own soul, and perforce it shone upon his 
people. As he told of the Christ forsaking the 
abodes of glory and being born in low estate, 
not because the Virgin prayed, not because 
love of Mary wooed him from celestial heights, 
but from love alike to all his people, to save 
the souls of all who should believe in him ; 
as he painted Christ now ready to dwell in 
contrite hearts ; as he set forth a holy life 
inspired by the Babe of Bethlehem, his hearers, 
who had never before been told such wonders, 
and to whom his feeble half-utterances were 
a glorious revelation, wept aloud. As he left 
his pulpit the people crowded near him for 
his blessing ; the women strove to touch 
his garments; they reached out to touch his 
hand, and then kissed their own hands in 

homage. 

18 * 


o 


210 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

Now by this adulation was Padre Innocenza 
swept to some giddier height of self-assurance? 
No. By the grace of God the very reverence 
done him gave him a new view of his own 
defiled heart, and he shuddered back from the 
sight, crying, “Unclean, unclean! How shall 
man be just with God,?” 

And still, in every new strife within him, in 
every renewed soul conflict, inexorable con- 
science stood sternly pointing to his cruelty to a 
helpless stranger, his betrayal of the dying 
charge of Nicole, his treachery to a widow, his 
robbery of a babe from its mother, his designs 
on the Forano estate, which designs, if he 
could not repair his wrong-doings, would ripen 
until Forano swelled the riches of the church 
which he now knew to be Anti-Christ. 

Thus, while on Christmas day the people of 
his flock talked one with another that their 
priest was surely holier than any bishop ; that 
he would soon be able to work miracles ; that 
after death he would surely be canonized; that 
perchance he would advance from Sta. Maria to 
the Pontifical throne ; or even that some day, in 
the midst of one of his eloquent sermons, he 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. ■ 211 

might be rapt away from their eyes in some 
act of consecration, and their chapel henceforth 
become a shrine — while they spoke thus, Inno- 
cenza, cast down in the sacristy upon his face, 
mourned before God. “ My confusion is contin- 
ually before me, and the shame of my face hath 
covered me.” 

And yet so strong and pitiless is the bondage 
of Rome, so warped and hard is the heart which 
she has trained, that Padre Innocenza was not 
yet willing to give up all to God; the hand 
which he would hold out to receive the in- 
effable grace was yet closed fast over the wages 
of unrighteousness. This heart, in some things 
so obdurate, in others so gracious, passed 
through another tremendous struggle of some 
weeks’ duration, and then Padre Innocenza 
made a further effort to set himself right with- 
his past and make himself just with God. We 
find him, on a warm, bright February morning, 
riding toward Pisa. He did not go quite to the 
city of Beauty, but entered a tract of wild land 
which lies between Pisa and Leghorn. He was 
seeking a little hovel in this neighborhood 
when he came upon its owner herself, an old 


212 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

woman, out in the wood gathering brambles, 
twigs, dead weeds, every possible form of dry 
vegetable rubbish, which she bound into small 
scraggly bundles, called fachies by the poor. 
These bundles she sold for an infinitesimal 
price to some peasant a trifle better off* 
than herself, through whose intervention they 
reached the dismal shop of some town fachino, 
fuel seller, and were used as kindling, bringing 
finally part of a cent per bundle. When the 
Padre came upon this old woman she had raised 
a great pile of fachies^ and having bent for his 
benediction she sat down on the heap of brush 
to rest while she talked with him. She had 
once been his parishioner, but, had abandoned 
'the hills for the swampy plain, following the 
fortunes of her son. 

''Bellissima joiimata, Padre,” said the old 
woman with a doleful whine. “ I hope your 
reverendisshno is better off* than 1.” 

I am sorry to hear you are in distress, mea 
amicaB 

^^Ecco^ Padre, the better hearts people have 
the less good things God Almighty gives 
them,” groaned the wood-gatherer. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 


213 


^^Davvero, Carola ! why do you think that ? ” 
asked Innocenza. 

Oh, Signore, it is but now that one of my 
poor neighbors came by in a sad, hungry case. 
My heart ached to help her, but I could do 
nothing ; I am so poor that I have not enough 
for myself. And, Padre, it is always so. It is 
from the good hearts that God takes things.” 

''Bene, bene, Carola, listen to me. You felt 
for this woman because you are poor yourself, 
and know what a bitter thing poverty is. You 
have learned sympathy by suffering. If you had 
been rich you might have committed sin by not 
feeling pity, because you would have had no ex- 
perience to plead her case in your soul.” 

"Davvero, Padre ! I never thought of that.” 

"Ecco, Carola, it is not because God takes 
away good fortune from those who have good 
hearts, but that misfortune, coming first, has 
made their hearts tender.” 

“ Si, si, reverendissimoT 

• **And perhaps, Carola, it is better by affliction 
to have learned charity, and in poverty to 
possess a kindly spirit, than to be rich and un- 
feeling, for in the first , case the Lord accepts 


214 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

your intention, and in the second he holds you 
guilty for that, seeing your brother have need, 
you had no compassion.” 

It may be so.” 

*‘And yet, Carola, I perceive that you had 
rather try the other fortune and be rich, and 
take your chance of being liberal.” 

^^Davvero! davvero! I would indeed. Signore.” 

“ But even on the rich, loss, disease, death 
come. You remember Ser. Nicole, who died at 
Sta. Maria Maggiore some years ago ? ” 

“ In truth I do. That is just it, Padre. He 
had youth, friends, plenty to eat and drink, and 
his life was some good to him, so of course he 
dies; cospetto ! and poor beggars live on to 
starve ! ” 

Such things are hard to explain, Carola.” 

% 

** Sicoray they are ; and I think the saints have 
got the world in a sad muddle managing it. 
They take the wrong men out and leave the 
wrong men in, without any regard to our, 
feelings.” 

''And there was Ser. Nicole’s little child, 
Carola.” 

" Eh ? So there was ; — and there it is again. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 215 

A poor man gets a child, and he keeps it, owns 
it, feeds it — it comes up somehow; but that 
child, and those like it, have been sent to the 
wrong place. It don’t do to have strangers in 
a great Gold Book family like Forano ; so, be- 
cause its father, and mother might do well by it 
they can’t, and off goes the baby, the saints 
know where. So it goes. Padre. Most any of 
us poor people could tell how the world might 
be vastly improved, but our advice is not asked, 
Signore.” 

^‘And you think that child was likely to live, 
Carola ? ” 

“Tutt, aliro ! what difference? Of course, it 
was likely to live, for folks wanted it to die. 
Babes at the Innocenti get small encouragement 
to live, but they hang on to life for all.” 

“ I think I remember, it did go to the In- 
nocenti.” 

Remember I Well, reverendissimOy I re- 
member, because my mind is not so full of busi- 
ness as yours. Yes, I know it went, for Gulio 
Ravi and I took it there ; at least, I went with 
him to Firenze, and he paid my way back to 
Pisa forme; and you’ll remember, reverendis- 


216 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

simo, I’ve not been to Sta. Maria since. Nurs- 
ing the young English woman was my last work 
there ; and your reverence saw that I was well 
paid for it, too.” 

“ I think you are right, Carola. You have a 
wonderful memory ; and yet I believe it would 
not serve you so far as to tell how that child 
looked, or if it had any mark on its body ? ” 

“Eh? Think not?” cried Carola, triumph- 
antly. “ Why now, it did have a mark — a black 
mole — on the inside of the right arm at the 
elbow-joint. Davvero! I said to myself, it is well 
this is a boy, not a girl to be wearing bare arms 
and being discomfited with a black mark that 
will one day show as big as my finger-nail. 
Such a spot on the arm would not please a girl. 
Signore ; but as for boys, why, they don’t mind 
such trifles. Yet, girl or boy, all is one, for 
beauty and display don’t go far at the Innocenti 
among foundlings. As to looks, revereiidissinio^ 
all babes look alike.” 

“ Truly you have a great memory, Carola. I 
shall have to burden it with the recollection 
that to-day I gave you two francs, half of one 
being for your poor neighbor.” 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 217 

And so Padre Innocenza, who had obtained 
the information he came for, handed the old 
wood-collector the money he named, then rode 
away, followed by the blessings of Carola. 

. The Padre felt that he had obtained knowl- 
edge which would enable him to pursue in- 
quiries at the Hospital degli hinocentiy and the 
next week he set out for Florence, ostensibly to 
see his Bishop, but really to visit that great 
establishment for foundlings, which, when the 
land was under purely Romish regime, is said 
to have received six thousand infants every year 
from Tuscany alone ! 

Although Padre Innocenza’s secret heart had 
thrown off allegiance to Rome; although his 
enlightened mind rejected her tenets, he had not 
come to the point where he dared openly re- 
nounce her, and with that duplicity which seems 
ineradicably fixed in a heart trained as his had 
been, his first visit in Florence was one of out- 
ward cordiality and respect to the Bishop. The 
chief part of his interview was with the Bishop’s 
secretary. Innocenza briefly stated that his 
people were docile, attentive at church ; that he 
was thoroughly catechising the children; for 
19 


218 THE OAT^H-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

the rest nothing was doing; there were not 
enough candidates for confirmation to make 
an episcopal visitation needful ; many of the 
youth wandered to foreign lands as minstrels. 
Then Innocenza saw the Bishop, kissed his hand, 
got a benediction, and went away less at ease 
than ever. 

His second visit was to the Innocenti, on the 
great Piazza Annunziata. That a priest should 
come making inquiries for a foundling was no 
new thing ; and indeed he was in a much better 
position to get information than a layman would 
have been. The nuns in charge examined their 
books, searched their memories, questioned the 
oldest nurses. If a child is left at this hospital 
with the slightest token for its identification — 
as a name, initials, a jewel, even a ribbon or a 
peculiar garment — this is specially recorded; 
when the child is farmed out for nursing, or is 
given for adoption, or is apprenticed, this clue is 
associated with it on the records, so that it may 
in future be traced. But any physical marks of 
children, whose identity it is evidently desired 
to lose, are never heeded, unless they are so 
singular as to attract the notice of some nurse,- 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 219 

and accidentally to remain in her mind associated 
with the farther development of the foundling’s 
fortunes. Such a reminiscence was all that 
Padre Innocenza could hope for, and he was as- 
sured that there was almost no possibility of 
such a trace as he mentioned being followed. 
However, the authorities of the house put down 
a name (fictitious) which he gave them, and 
promised to make inquiries. He on his part 
agreed to return after a few months to learn if 
they had made any progress toward the dis- 
covery of the lost infant. 

It was nightfall when he left the Innocenti, 
and, having taken his supper in a trattoria^ the 
Padre was about to seek his lodgings when he 
found himself in a throng of people all pressing 
toward one point. Idly following with the mul- 
titude, the Padre was drawn with them into a 
great hall, poorly lighted, but densely crowded, 
where some one had already begun an oration 
from a broad platform. The speaker was cast 
in a herculean mould ; a magnificent head set 
on the shoulders of a giant ; a voice of pro- 
digious compass, yet capable of pouring forth 
the sweet, many-vowelled Tuscan in all its sweet- 


220 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

est melody ; the daring of the soldier, the fire of 
the true orator, the winning plausibility of a suc- 
cessful priest united in this man. By all these 
he stirred the hearts of his hearers to ecstacies 
of enthusiasm. They wept, they groaned, they 
shouted, they started to their feet. This was 
Alessandro Gavazzi, making to his countrymen 
a mingled harangue on religion and politics — 
uplifting 7nio Vittorio Emmanuelo, and preparing 
afar off the irrevocable downfall of il papa. 

The impressible soul of Padre Innocenza re- 
sponded to every sentence of Gavazzi as a harp 
responds to every sweep of some maestro’s 
hand. Gavazzi, on that night, struck off Inno- 
cenza’s political bonds and set him in the ranks 
of that increasing majority of the nation which 
was moving with mighty momentum toward the 
deliverance of the state from priestcraft, and to 
the liberation of Rome. 

All night the echoes of the orator’s voice re- 
sounded in the Padre’s ears. He had meant to 
leave the city next day, but he could not go ; 
held by some fascination, he clung to Florence, 
desiring only to see again the man who had so 
enthralled him. On the second day after, as he 


FALLEN INTO JITS OWN TRAP. 


221 


was wandering in the Boboli Gardens, he sud- 
denly met Gavazzi under the shadow of Gian 
Bologna's statue of Plenty. The two fell into 
conversation, and, wandering away upon a 
wooded height above the city, Gavazzi the 
teacher and Innocenza the priest, the soldier- 
monk- — himself delivered — Gavazzi awoke a new 
manhood in Innocenza, and set him free of an 
external subservience to a church which his soul 
served no longer. Innocenza would now go 
back to his home, and teach his people what he 
had learned. When the hour came that the at- 
tention of the Popish Church was directed to 
them, they would not make a pretension of 
serving her. 

The ancient poet tells us, the hour a man is 
made a slave, “ observant fate takes half the man 
away.” More than half the man had been 
taken from the priests of Rome, their servitude 
being the heavier burden, and directed primarily 
against the mind. Padre Innocenza had to that 
hour heard none calling him to a new manhood, 
to the enjoyment of a hitherto unknown freedom 
of thought and act. 

The third day after, Innocenza was at the 
19 * 


222 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

depot, about to enter the train for Pisa, when 
Gavazzi passed him. The Italian leader turned, 
and, grasping the hand of his new acquaintance, 
said, cheerily: 

“ How now, amico ! ” 

'' Miserabile ! replied Padre Innocenza. 

A look of trouble came into the kind, bold 
face : the train was about to start ; Innocenza’s 
foot was on the step. 

“Stay! Talk to the Vaudois if you have op- 
portunity; they are the best comforters that I 
know for a mind distressed.” 

Padre Innocenza marvelled, but he did not 
doubt the word of the man who had captivated 
all his heart. He began to consider where he 
should find a Vaudois. Providence sent one to 
him. Nanni Conti found the lonely parish of 
Sta. Maria Maggiore among the hills, and, call- 
ing from house to house, sold or gave tracts 
and hymns, wondering much that here, instead 
of curses, contumely, stoning, he found a people 
prepared of the Lord. According to his prac- 
tice, he sought for the priest. The ragged 
factotum directed the stranger to the chapel, 
and here Nanni found the Padre pacing up and 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 223 

down the aisles. After a few words as to the 
place, the priest said : 

“ I have thought that perhaps Noah's dove 
fluttered many times around the ark before the 
patriarch put out his hand and took her in; so 
my soul comes to this house of God, hoping 
here in some way at length to enter into 
peace.” 

Howbeit,” replied Nanni Conti, the Most 
High dwelleth not in temples made with hands. 
In every lowly and contrite heart he is content 
to dwell, and where he is, there is peace.” 

“Tell me, are you a Vaudois?” asked Padre 
Innocenza. 

“ Yes, I am,” replied Nanni. “ Do you know 
what a Vaudois is? ” 

“ He is the man I am looking for,” replied 
Innocenza, and led his guest into the sacristy. 

But all Nanni Conti’s ministration could not 
bring consolation to this perturbed spirit. The 
evangelist gave the priest' some further light, 
some gleams of comfort, and felt assured that 
God was dealing with his soul, but left Inno- 
cenza still crying, “ I am the man that hath seen 
affliction! ” 


224 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORAJVO. 

It was now March of 1863, and Nanni Conti 
was bound to the Palazzo Borgosoia on a happy 
errand — nothing else than his marriage to 
Assunta. 

While Nanni was preaching in the sacristy to 
Padre Innocenza, Assunta was sewing at her 
wedding dress, and Honor Maxwell, in the 
salon, was opening a letter bearing an American 
postmark. It was from Mrs, Bruce, who had 
been at her home in Philadelphia for six 
months. Honor was always pleased to read 
her letters to Uncle Francini; the genial, simple 
old gentleman listened with interest to news of 
the actual world, of which, withdrawn into his 
dreams of art, he seemed hardly to form a por- 
tion. The changes of life came to him some- 
thing as a pleasing story would come to a 
recluse — just excitement enough to refresh, just 
pathos enough to stir pleasantly, just mirth 
enough not to weary, and a fixed assurance 
that all would be right at the last chapter. 
Thus Uncle Francini looked on life, and in this 
mood he now listened, holding Michael on his 
knee, his own snowy beard and locks mingling 
with the boy’s black curls, his calm, pale. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 


225 


peaceful face contrasting with the high color, 
life and excitement playing over every feature 
of his waif from Carnival. 

So we hear Honor reading thus from Mrs. 
Bruce’s letter : “ I left poor Judith Forano with 
deep regret. She has singular capacities for 
suffering — one of those natures to whom life is 
all high tragedy. I fear she will soon lose her 
mother, who is very feeble. I bought one of 
our Bibles for her, and put it in a sandal-wood 
box, and with it a diamond ring — an odd mix- 
ture, you say ? I gave her the parcel sealed, 
saying, *Dear Judith, if great sorrow comes to 
you again, think of me and open this my parting 
gift.’ Now I put the book up in this way in 
order to captivate her fastidious taste; and I put 
the ring with it, that when she opened it she 
might see that I did not merely give her what I 
liked, and what cost me little, but I gave her a 
jewel, and with it what I thought better than 
jewels. I hope, in some hour of grief, my note 
and my ring will disarm her wrath when she 
sees Hhe book of the Nazarene,’ and my re- 
membered friendship will conquer her scruples, 
and she may find that which only can calm such 

p 


226 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

a tempest-tossed heart as hers — ^the grace of our 
Lord Jesus Christ.” 

“Now, Honor,” said Uncle Francini, “I con- 
sider that act of Mrs. Bruce as one link in the 
chain of God’s mercy that is to bind that poor 
woman’s heart to him. When such things are 
done with a true desire to do God service they 
are deeds inspired by heaven, and some day 
will be blessed; these are acts which shall not 
return void, but shall accomplish the thing that 
God pleases.” 

“I trust so,” replied Honor. “I wish the 
poor mother might have found her child.” 

“Its loss can be ruled of God to gain. Evi- 
dently she is one to have earthly idols, so God 
has set the child away, and will so set away her 
other idols, one by one, until she can see but 
him alone; so that good end will be worth all 
the present loss.” 

Uncle Francini did not often say so many 
words without something about art, or artists, or 
the divine Michael Angelo. He was a simple, 
old-fashioned man, almost of one idea, and now 
he came back, not at all to Honor’s surprise, to 
his favorite theme. 


FALLEN INTO HIS O WN TRAP. 


227 


am thinking of a picture^ Honor — The 
Vaudois Wedding, and I shall paint just that 
gloomy little chapel room, and these hard- 
worked, honest people gathered ; and Assunta, 
so bright and gay in her mountain dress ; and 
Nanni Conti, so fair-haired and pale ; and you and 
the Polwarths, strangers, looking on; and this 
handsome boy contrasted with the gray, wrinkled 
old uncle in a corner. It will be a very pretty 
picture, my girl — that is, for these days when 
the old masters are gone.” 

In fact Assunta’s marriage in the Vaudois 
chapel made just such a picture as Uncle Fran- 
cini suggested, and after the marriage Miss 
Maxwell provided a supper for the bride’s 
friends in the court of the Palazzo Borgosoia. 
It was St. Joseph’s day, warm and bright, and 
the evening was almost as warm and bright as 
the day. 

While the bride’s party went off in high spirits 
to their supper. Dr. Polwarth returned home and 
found Padre Innocenza waiting for him in his 
study. With very little preliminary conversa- 
tion Innocenza told the Doctor the whole story 
of Judith Forano and her child, so far as he 


228 THE OA TH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

knew it. He avowed that he had sent the child 
to the Innocenti, unnamed, and that he had 
drugged the mother and sent her with some 
nuns to a convent. He gave, also, his reason, 
namely, that he desired to secure the Forano 
property to his church, and so to advance his 
own interest with his superiors. 

“Now,” he said, “what can I do? The 
woman has freed herself. I am trying hope- 
lessly to find the child, with no clue at all but 
a little mark on its body. I don’t know where 
the mother is.” 

“ I do,” said Dr. Polwarth. “ I can give you 
her father’s address in London ” — and so told 
the astonished priest what he had heard, through 
Honor Maxwell and Mrs. Bruce, of Judith. 

“ I don’t see as that will help me if I cannot 
find and restore her her child,” said the Padre. 
“As for telling the Marchese, it would be pos- 
sibly dangerous to him, for he is old and feeble, 
and the excitement might kill him, while he 
would not be so likely to discover the child as I 
am. This act has become a nightmare to me ; I 
am pursued by a vision of Nicole making me 
promise to protect his wife and child. I broke 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 229 

my promise to the dead. I would devote my 
whole life to finding that child if I only might 
succeed. Then, every day I dread to hear that 
the Marchese is dead, and that the priest at the 
Assumption has wrung the estate out of his dying 
hand, and got the Marchesa to retire to a con- 
vent. Thus I shall be compelled to see myself 
feeding a church which I have now learned to 
reject. There is no. man in all the world but 
yourself to whom I dared open my heart, and I 
felt as if my unshared secret would drive me mad.” 

“I think you should tell the Marchese that 
possibly his heir is living, and at least it would 
prevent his leaving his property to the church, 
as you fear,” said the Doctor. 

The priest shook his head. 

“His death might be hastened. Besides how 
many priests, monks, and nuns would at once 
be busy to secrete the child if it were living, to 
effectually prevent his finding it — to testify its 
death ? I know better than to set the whole 
church working against me. Ah me! little did 
I think when I took such means to prevent the 
child’s ever being found that I was the one 
doomed to seek for it most bitterly.” 

20 


230 THE OATH-KEEPER ' OF FORANO. 

Now, in telling his story, Padre Innocenza 
had, with the secretiveness characteristic of a 
priest, never mentioned the kind of mark 
whereby he sought the child, nor the name of 
Gulio Ravi. He also exacted a promise of 
silence • from Dr. Polwarth, lest the Marchese 
should hear the story prematurely. 

And now Assunta and Nanni have gone to 
their home in Barletta, and,are living beside old 
Ser. Conti, in the house of the widow Mariana. 
The church in Barletta has by this time grown 
to twenty. Nanni is to spend half his time in 
Barletta working in this church, and the other 
half of his time traveling as a colporteur, going 
once in a year to Firenze. The little church in 
Barletta is bound in the closest amity among its 
members, and is as a dight shining in a dark 
place. The neighbors are becoming accustomed 
to the Evmtgelici. The Fari family, with won- 
drous caution, come secretly to the meetings, 
talk secretly with Ser. Conti and Ser. Jacopo, 
and attend diligently to all things prescribed in 
their own religion ; thus “ they feared the Lord 
and served their own gods.” Among the members 
of this Vaudois church on the Adriatic is Jo- 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP. 231 

seph, second, son of Ser. Jacopo, a lad who be- 
gins to talk of being sent up to the Valleys to 
the Vaudois school, and afterwards the The- 
ological Seminary at Florence, to become in 
time a preacher of the truth ; for the present he 
works at his father’s bench, and makes diligent 
use of all his opportunities. 

The Villa Anteta is still the summer home of 
Uncle Francini. He finds the air, the scenery 
and the society of the Marchese exactly suited 
to him. No one was happier in this arrange- 
ment of Uncle Francini’s time in summer than 
the Marchesa, as it brought Honor to cheer her 
for four months of her year ; the meetings in the 
morning at the Pavilion were sunny spots in 
the Marchesa’s life. 

‘‘And so,” said the Marchesa to Honor, “ your 
maid has married' a Vaudois, and become 
Vaudois, too. Who would have thought it! 
Our Padre here had nearly persuaded , her to be 
a nun when she was but fifteen. Such girls in 
convents seem to me a perversion of nature. I 
look on convents as places for widows, the old, 
the heart-broken penitents. As for Assunta, I 
saw she was carried away, so I reasoned with her. 


232 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

and sent her to town, asking a friend to place 
her with some lady who would watch over her. 
She went to you — and is become a Vaudois; 
but she seems to me a good girl, and sincere, 
and rd rather see her a Vaudois, married and 
happy, than shut up in a convent, and repenting 
her vow. I don’t believe that all Vaudois are 
shut into hell ; in truth, Signorina, if a Jew, or a 
Vaudois, or a heretic of any sort, serves God 
and loves his fellow-men, he seems to me likely 
to get to heaven — even more likely than some 
wicked Catholics who serve only them.selves 
and prey on their fellow-men. My common 
sense tells me that merely being a Catholic will 
not take one to heaven unless his soul is in har- 
mony with heaven.” 

‘‘ Then, Marchesa, you do not think that I, 
as a heretic, am surely doomed to perdition?” 
asked Honor, with a smile in her eyes. 

“ Oh, Signorina cara ! how can you ! Did 
you not tell me that Sen Jesus dwells with you ? 
do I not see that it is so ? and will Sen Jesus 
dwell with you in this world and abandon you 
in the next ? No, Signorina ; Sen Jesus is more 
faithful to his friends.” 


FALLEN LNTO HIS OWN TRAP, 233 

j} 

‘"And is that presence of Christ your own 
ground of hope, Marchesa ? ” 

“Ah, Signorina, I have not so much of that 
as you have ; but I do my duty in my church, 
and I love my fellow-creatures, and I hope by 
all these three things to get to heaven.” 

“Dear friend, it is by Jesus ‘only that we 
enter into life.” 

“ Then — But we will not argue ; I have no 
argument; I only judge by my common sense. 
If by Jesus only we enter, no man has power to 
shut the gate on any soul ; and there is one 
point where my church is wrong. That re- 
minds me of a thing in my church which I hate 
— the Inquisition, Signorina. I know that was 
none of God’s ways. Does God want service 
forced by torture ? When I remember that, I 
almost hate my church; but let me consider 
that this is but part of the evil we ever find 
mixed with good. My grapes and my olives 
have both good and bad among them. But,” 
added the generous Marchesa, flushing, “ the 
Inquisition I repudiate; that was a thing to 
gratify the greed and malice of wicked men.” 

“ Believe me, Marchesa, my heart never 
20 * 


234 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

charged you with approving of it,” said Honor, 
gently. 

“Signorina, when I look at your sort of 
church, in history, in experience, I see in you 
only two crimes : the not worshipping of Mary 
and a disbelief in the Catholic Church ; but there 
are crimes of opinion which God must find it 
easy to forgive, when he considers how ignorant 
is humanity; I see in you nothing to hate, 
nothing to shudder at; but you must see in us 
several horrible things, as the Inquisition, and 
the lives of the saints. Believe me, Signorina 
carissima^ I detest the lives of the saints, and 
esteem them a collection of lies ; and if they are 
not lies, but true, then so much the worse, I say 
— saints’ doings and temptations are not fit for 
people to hear about.” 

“ I am quite sure you admire nothing of the 
kind ; but there is a little book of true histories 
of some of God’s saints, especially the Apostles; 
I am sure you would like it, Signop,” and 
Honor drew from her pocket the Acts of the 
Apostles printed in Italian. The Marchesa 
took it, looked at it, then a horrible suspicion 
.crossed her soul. 


FALLEN INTO HIS OWN TRAP, 


235 


Fm afraid this is part of the Bible, Sig- 
norina.” 

That is true,” replied Miss Maxwell. 

The Marchesa dropped the book in her lap, 
saying : 

“ Signorina, it is hardly fair for you to tempt 
me with any of the writings of Moses, for you 
know I am not so learned as to divide the good 
from the evil.” 

“ Believe me. Signora, this is not written by 
Moses, but long after Moses was dead it was 
written by Luke, the good evangelist.” 

^^Again a danger,’ Signorina. Evangelists, 
evangelicals, these all are dangerous to me — a 
Forano cannot be a turncoat.” 

‘‘Understand me, Marchesa — I mean by St. 
Luke the companion of St. Paul;. surely you 
have heard of him ? ” 

“ Oh, truly — you mean the one who painted 
the portrait of the blessed Virgin ; he did it in 
the chapel of Sta. Maria, at Rome. I paid five 
francs to get a good look at that picture when 
I was in the Eternal City. Well, if your book 
was truly written by St. Luke, perhaps I might 
read it. But tell me, does it belong to the 
Bible?” 


236 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“Yes, certainly it does, Marchesa — to the 
New Testament.” 

“ On the whole, I won’t meddle with it. If 
there is any good in it you may tell it to me.” 

“ I cannot understand how that would im- 
prove it. Signora.” 

“ Plain enough. Ecco, cara! if I want a drink, 
and have only water which I fear may be mixed 
with impurities, I put it in a filter, and the water 
that comes to me out of that is good. So, there 
may be good and evil in this book ; but I know 
that if it comes to me through your mind I will 
get only what is good, and be refreshed instead 
of injured.” 

Poor Honor was so distressed at her mind 
being looked upon as a medium which should 
add purity ^o the word of God that for several 
days she avoided all conversation with the 
Marchesa on religious subjects. Indeed, the 
Marchesa feared that she had herself gone too 
far on dangerous themes, and so cautiously 
confined her observations to purely secular 
questions. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 

“And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, 
whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed 
from this bond on the sabbath day ? ” 

I N the same spring of 1863 when Honor 
received the letter of Mrs. Bruce, Judith 
Forano suffered the bereavement which her 
friend had anticipated — she lost her mother. 
Her sorrow was of that intense type which 
characterized all her feelings and actions, but 
indeed she was left very lonely and desolate. 
Judith’s sisters were all- married and in homes 
of their own ; her second brother was in India. 
She remained in her luxurious but sorrowful 
home with her father, her eldest brother Samuel 
and her twin-brother Simeon. Her long ab- 
sence ahd her misfortunes had cut Judith off 
from her early companions, and now that her 

mother was gone she passed her days in entire 

(237j 


238 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA HO. 

loneliness. Still she did not feel utterly deserted, 
for her father and Simeon loved her tenderly, 
and she looked forward to the evenings spent 
with them as to her sole consolation. For her 
each day dragged heavily by. Sometimes she sat 
for hours at her piano playing solemn and minor 
music, every strain of which was a dirge over 
her departed ; she would lie in a darkened room 
with her eyes closed recalling the faces of Nicole, 
of her mother, and of her child ; and sometimes 
half a day would pass in such dangerous reverie ; 
books gave no pleasure to her — she had never 
been a student: 'the fervor of poetry seemed tame 
to her passionate soul, and in fiction the griefs 
and dangers of all heroines were to her but poor 
parodies of the intensity of life; in her heart 
and history there had been a pathos and a pain 
beside which the most highly-wrought tale paled 
to inanity. A letter from Mrs. Bruce, the. only 
woman, except her mother, who had ever be- 
friended her, occasionally cheered a day, and 
these letters poor Judith treasured like a lover. 
She would ponder over their kindly words and 
her replies, as she sat long mornings striving to 
busy herself with fancy-work of wonderful and 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


239 


elaborate variety, the knowledge of which she 
had brought from her convent, as a sailor may 
bring a shell or leaf, as the memento of some 
desolate island where he has suffered ship- 
wreck. 

But the unhappy Judith had not yet touched 
sorrow’s deepest depth. The summer of 1864 
saw her once more in the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. Malignant fever, a scourge of London 
— a disease which rises at the spell of bad drain- 
age and a water supply insufficient to so enor- 
mous a metropolis — enters unabashed even the 
most gorgeous West End home and carries away 
his spoils. So, scorning merely to make prey of 
the apple woman at the corner, of the sweeper 
at the crossing, of the beggar lurking in a foul 
alley under shadow of Westminster, the fever 
came into the Lyons mansion. Judith felt that 
she would have welcomed the fatal touch upon 
herself ; she thought nothing could be worse 
than this world of loss. Samuel Lyons might 
have been taken and the world have been little 
poorer. But instead, the victims were David 
Lyons — truly a liberal, loyal, genial gentleman 
— and the gracious young man Simeon, his 


240 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

youngest son. In the great drawing-room, ten 
times more desolate than ever now, stood two 
coffins ; the rabbis sat keeping watch over the 
father and son ; the hearses and the funeral 
coaches of the two moved away from the door 
together. 

There were days for Judith of a wild grief 
which bordered on insanity; then weeks of 
prostration and confirmed melancholy which 
defy any description, and as yet she- hardly 
realized all the misfortunes of her position. 

The rule of the house of Lyons had descended 
to Sa^muel, a Hebrew of the Hebrews in bigotry 
and duplicity. All nations have their individ- 
uals, who may stand as types of the worst pos- 
sibilities of their race, and such a bitter, selfish, 
obstinate man was Samuel Lyons. He had 
always abhorred his sister’s marriage to Nicole, 
so much that he would never mention her name 
ofForano; he had opposed his father’s desire 
to search for the lost child, because he wanted 
no Nazarene blood ” in a Hebrew house ; his 
sister’s past he would have dead and buried, and 
he looked on her as half an outcast, deeply 
tainted by her convent life. This man was now 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


241 


sole arbiter of Judith’s fortunes, for David Lyons 
had made his will when Judith was supposed to 
be dead, and when her sisters had received their 
dowers. With a father’s partiality he had been 
blind to Samuel’s faults — regarding him indeed 
as notably religious — and he cheerfully left 
Judith in his hands, requesting him ever to pro- 
vide for her tenderly, and if she chose to marr}'- 
again, to give her a suitable portion. Nor was 
Samuel unwilling to do this, if his sister should 
prove completely subservient to his wishes. 
He had neither love nor sympathy to put out at 
interest, but there was her home and clothing 
ready for her so long as she obeyed him, and a 
dowry if he had the selection of her husband. 

One of the first movements of Samuel after 
he came into possession was to order the ser- 
vants no longer to say’“ Madame Forano” but 
“ Madame Judith ; ” the second was to take 
charge of the mails of the family, and to drop 
every letter from Mrs. Bruce into the fire. 

Judith missed these letters sorely when her 
broken heart awoke to any thought of what 
went on around her. She wrote to Mrs. Bruce, 
but her letter got no further than Samuel’s fire ; 

21 Q 


242 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and as days still passed without word from her 
friend she even spoke her sorrow and disap- 
pointment to Samuel. 

“ There is no faith in a Nazarene,” said Sam- 
uel Lyons. 

Mourning thus over her friend’s silence, 
Judith bethought herself of her parting present. 
The parcel was yet sealed. I can never be 
more unhappy than now,” said Judith, and so 
she opened the packet. An exclamation of 
anger broke from her as she unclosed the 
velvet-bound Bible and saw the words, ^‘The 
New Testament of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ,” and she flung the book across the 
room. The sandal-wood box was not yet 
empty; a letter had lain under the Bible, and a 
small morocco case lurked in one corner. The 
case contained the diamond ring ; the letter was 
so full of wisdom and love, of consolation — for 
it was addressed to her in the hour of sorrow, 
when she would open the box — that Judith’s 
heart was touched. She took up the despised 
book, wiped it, and laid it in the box on her 
dressing-table. The ring was not one to wear 
with her deep mourning garb, but she fashioned 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


243 


a little bag of black velvet, put letter and jewel 
together, and hung them about her neck, inside 
her dress, by a chain made of her mother’s hair. 
This bag became a sort of reliquary to the sad 
enthusiast. She put in it presently a knot 
wrought of the hair of her father and brother, 
and a little note written her by Nicole, and 
which she had found preserved among her 
mother’s keepsakes. 

As Mrs. Bruce had hoped and prayed, famil- 
iarity with the sight of the Bible disarmed by 
degrees Judith’s superstition, memories of her 
friend’s goodness overcame her scruples ; in 
her most miserable condition, unable to engage 
her attention with any occupation, all her future 
desolated, the blackness of utter night falling 
over the graves of her beloved, sitting hour after 
hour without a soul to speak to her, Judith, in 
sheer despair, one day opened 'the Bible, care- 
fully avoiding the latter portion. The first verses 
on which her eye fell were: “ His foundation is in 
the holy mountains. The Lord loveth the gates 
of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob.” 
Lured by this, she sat down to examine the 
volume, and, coming to the book of Esther, read 


244 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

it through; she then read Ezra and Nehemiah. 
She marveled much to find these Scriptures 
quite correct, and her national history thus 
printed and preserved by those Nazarenes,’' 
those “Gentiles,” whom she supposed to be the 
hereditary foes of her faith. 

The following day she read in the Psalms, 
and from them much comfort poured into her 
wounded heart. She then concluded to turn to 
the beginning of the book and ascertain if the 
Pentateuch were properly transcribed. She had 
now some subject for thought beside her own 
woes. Her mind began to dwell upon the 
wonderful history of her race. The beauty of 
the patriarchal character grew upon her appre- 
hension. The guiding and glory of Jehovah 
deeply interested her. All that she had known 
before seemed to come to her with peculiar force 
and charm. 

After a time Judith began to reason with her- 
self that if these Scriptures contradicted the 
“ Nazarene Testament,” they would hardly be 
so boldly bound up with it. The Bible was a 
reference Bible, and Mrs. Bruce’s note and her 
own acuteness made her ready in the use of it. 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


245 


She set herself to read the New Testament and 
compare it with the Old. 

. Light poured into her mind; she was no 
longer “slow of heart to believe all that the 
prophets have spoken.” She now resolved to 
go to a “ Nazarene church,” and for several 
Sabbaths she did so, receiving great consolation. 
For some weeks she thus attended Sabbath ser- 
vices without molestation. Samuel Lyons, as he 
could not keep open his house of merchandise 
on the Sabbath, spent most of the morning in 
bed, considering his accounts and business let- 
ters of importance. When he found that his 
sister was absent from the house, he supposed 
that she had gone for a walk or a drive in 
Hyde Park, and was rather pleased than 
otherwise. 

At last, however, his suspicions became 
awakened; he and Judith .were so little in sym- 
pathy, he was so cold and forbidding, that she 
had said nothing of her new views, but her 
Sabbath disappearance, and especially one even- 
ing about church time, struck him, and he 
bluffly demanded where she had been. 

Now Judith was no coward ; besides, it had 
21 * 


246 THE OATH-HEETER OF FORANO. 

not entered her mind that any one would dare 
interfere with the religious views of a woman 
of her age, a widow, and an Englishwoman on 
English soil. She replied that she had been to 
hear Dr. Cummings preach. 

“What!” thundered Samuel; “that crazy, 
infidel Nazarene ? ” 

“ He is not crazy, nor is he an infidel,” re- 
torted Judith,. “and so far as I know he preaches 
the truth.” 

“So ho,” screamed her brother, in a fury, 
“ you are one of those who believe his lies, that 
the world is coming to an end, and we sons of 
Judah not yet back in the Holy City?” 

“He does not say so,” replied Judith; “he 
believes that we shall first be restored, accord- 
ing to the word of the Lord by the mouth of the 
prophets. But it was not of this that I have been 
hearing him preach, but about Christ.” 

“ Vile wretch,” hissed Samuel, “ do you call 
the crucified malefactor Messiah?” 

“ Yes,” said Judith, drawing herself up and 
speaking with magnificent energy. “ Let all the 
house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath 
made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, 
both Lord and Christ I ” 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 247 

*^0h, traitor,” cried her brother, seizing her 
violently by the arfn, “ do you not know that 
Messiah is to be king and conqueror, not a cru- 
cified blasphemer ? ” 

But Judith shook off his grasp and replied: 

“Oh, slow of heart to believe all that the 
prophets have spoken ; ought not Christ to 
have suffered these things, and to enter into 
his glory?” 

“A curse upon you,” said Samuel, “constant 
disgrace of our house and of our nation. How 
often have you heard this vile doctrine?” 

“ I have heard this preacher often and gladly,” 
replied Judith. 

“And he has led you to reject and despise 
our sacred Scriptures ! ” 

“ No ; but my understanding has been opened 
to understand those very Scriptures, and I see 
how it is written, and ‘ thus it behoved Christ 
to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third 
day.’ ” 

Samuel replied by ordering her out of his 
sight. The next day she found herself locked 
into her bed-room, and no one came near her 
until afternoon, when Samuel brought her a 


248 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

small tray of bread, water and fruit He closed 
the door, and, standing against it, told her 
that she should not leave that room and the 
adjoining dressing-room until he sent for some 
rabbis and his uncle to reason with her. Then, 
“if she returned to obedience, all would be 
well." 

Judith asserted her right to freedom, and 
challenged the legality of his keeping her thus 
imprisoned, declaring that nothing which should 
be said or done could alter her opinion. In the 
midst of her words Samuel went out and locked 
the door behind him. 

On the second day after the rabbis and the 
uncle came, and for six hours they and Samuel 
argued with Judith, exhorted her, threatened 
her. She only replied to them when she had 
an apt quotation from Scripture. Finding her 
immovable, they united in pronouncing the 
most terrible curses upon her. Judith was ex- 
hausted by fasting and excitement. She rose 
and left the dressing-room, intending also to 
leave the house, but she found the front door 
locked and the key withdrawn. As she turned 
to seek exit by the basement, her brother seized 


A DAUGHTEJ^ OF ISRAEL. 


249 


her roughly to pull her toward the upper stair- 
case, and she fell fainting to the floor. 

. When she recovered her senses, she found 
herself removed to a suite of rooms which had 
evidently been prepared as a prison for her. 
They were at the back of the house, a bed- 
room, dressing-room and bath-room, a door 
having just been made between the two latter. 
Here a few clothes had been placed in a bureau, 
but her purse, jewels, and all similar treasures 
were missing. Her work-box, piano and em- 
broidery materials, with a few volumes approved 
by the rabbis, had been provided for her; and 
here, with no look-out but the bleak walls of 
some high buildings, she seemed destined to 
pass an indefinite period. Her convent experi- 
ences had made Judith wary; no one suspected 
the bag of mementoes hanging about her neck ; 
nor was she robbed of her Bible, for, fearing 
that, she carried the book continually in a 
pocket which she had made in her petticoat. 
Indeed, no one suspected her of this possession. 

But Judith was not now so miserable as she 
had been in a time when she had had the free- 
dom of the whole house. She now had a well- 


250 ^ THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

spring of consolation and strength; her soul 
rested in God, her Saviour. It was by this 
time winter; the days were short, dark and 
cold; she saw no one but the upper housemaid, 
a middle-aged woman who brought, her her 
meals, nor could Judith break past this woman 
and escape as she so came, for Samuel had pro- 
vided for her entrance by two sets of doors, 
which should be locked behind her. Indeed, 
Judith was a close prisoner, but she was a pris- 
oner of hope, and she abode in a stronghold of 
faith. Two months of this bondage wore away; 
Samuel came once or twice to demand if she 
had changed her mind, also to conclude his 
visit with a threat and a curse. 

At last he came in, more angry than usual, 
declaring that if her obstinacy held out two 
months longer he should regard her as incurably 
insane; should call in two physicians to certify 
thereto, and get out a commission of lunacy 
against her. 

Judith knew that this was no idle threat; her 
brother was capable of performing it, and En- 
glish law made it feasible; the unspeakable 
horrors of a lunatic asylum rose up before her. 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


251 


When he had left her her fortitude gave way, and 
bowing her face on her hands she burst into sobs 
and tears. Thus she was found by the housemaid, 
a Jewess who had lived several years in the family, 
and knew her painful history. This woman dis- 
liked Samuel Lyons, and increasingly pitied his 
sister. That night, under pretense of writing to 
her cousin, the maid wrote a letter to Judith, 
unfolding a plan of escape. She dared not 
speak much to the prisoner lest she might be 
overheard, but she gave her the letter the next 
day when they were alone, as she was setting in 
order the rooms occupied by Judith. Judith 
read the letter several times, considered the 
plan, saw that almost nothing could be more 
hopeless than her present case, and signified her 
acceptance of the proposal by nodding; the 
maid pointed to the grate, and Judith dropped 
the letter into the fire. 

The housemaid’s first act was to take an im- 
pression in wax of the key of Judith’s room, 
and get a similar key made, for Samuel Lyons 
each night saw that his sister was locked up, 
and carried the key of her room to his own 
apartment. To be sure, she might be ill in the 


252 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

night or the house might take fire, but she 
ought to consider those things herself, he 
thought, and avoid the danger by obedience. 

The kind servant next quarreled with the 
housekeeper, gave warning to leave in a month’s 
time, received her recommendation from Samuel 
and secured another place. Judith had neither 
money, hat, nor shawl, but the maid provided 
the hat, and Judith demanded a shawl or coat 
from her brother, complaining that she was often 
cold when her fire got low. Thus she obtained 
a shawl and the hat was hidden in the spring 
mattress of her bed. The plan was that the 
maid should leave in the afternoon of the set 
day, taking some articles of Judith’s clothing in 
her own luggage. She would go to a decent 
lodging, of which she gave Judith the address, 
and about daylight the next morning Judith 
would open her door with the key which the 
maid had obtained for her, steal out of the house 
when its inmates were in heavy morning sleep^ 
and yet at an hour when, with a bag in her hand 
like a traveler, she might pass unchallenged 
through the streets. The housemaid had care- 
fully oiled the hinges and fastenings of the front 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 253 

door, and encouraged Judith to rely on escaping 
safely. 

While Judith was thus as close a prisoner as 
she had been in an Italian Convent, she had nar- 
rowly escaped seeing a former persecutor. One 
noon Padre Innocenza rang the bell of the 
Lyons’ mansion. By some singular fortune 
Samuel Lyons himself met the Padre on the 
door step. He said that here was a foreigner, 
and an ecclesiastic, some reminiscence of Judith’s 
life in Italy, which it was his will should be for- 
ever forgotten ; he told the Padre that Madame 
Forano no longer lived there, and that he did not 
know where she might be found. He also gave 
notice in the house that neither admission nor 
information should ever be . accorded to the 
Padre, or a similar guest. 

The year 1865 had but just opened when 
Judith Forano effected her escape from the 
clutches of her brother Samuel. The plan of 
the maid worked admirably. Judith left the 
house, carrying a leathern bag, holding her 
dressing-case and work-box, found a cab coming 
from an early train, and was driven to the house 
indicated by her maid. That same day she 
22 


254 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

sold the ring which Mrs. Bruce had given, and 
obtained for it twenty pounds. The maid se- 
cured her passage in a steamer sailing next day 
directly from London to New York; her few 
possessions were packed in a small trunk, and 
when the steamer began to move down the 
Thames, Judith Forano was once more a fugi- 
tive, seeking safety on the waters. Now she 
had no father’s welcome, no mother’s love to 
anticipate; she was going to throw herself once 
more on the protection of Mrs. Bruce, trusting 
that her long silent friend was yet living and 
faithful, and would aid her in obtaining a 
support by teaching music and Italian. 

On the steamer Judith found an American 
family who treated her with courtesy, and as 
they were going to Philadelphia, she traveled in 
their company from New York. This was most 
providential, for she failed to find Mrs. Bruce at 
her former address ; her money was nearly gone, 
she did not know how to seek her friend, and so 
turned to these new acquaintances for advice. 
They not only insisted upon her remaining with 
them, but within a few days found Mrs. Bruce, 
and, besides, three pupils in Italian. Judith was 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 255 

warmly welcomed by her former protectress, 
who established her as a member of her own 
family. Thus we see our poor wanderer once 
more safe, and now with a sure foundation for 
hope and peace. 

Reviewing the events of our story until this 
February of 1865, our attention is especially 
caught by Padre Innocenza standing at David 
Lyons’ door, and in very broken English de- 
manding Madame Forano. We left the Padre 
in 1863, busy' in his parish among the hills. 
Nanni Conti had then a wife and a church on 
the shore of the Adriatic, and the Marchesa 
and Honor were spending a pleasant summer 
near the Forano vineyards. We must review 
then these two years over which Judith Forano’s 
troubles and happy deliverance have carried us. 

After that St. Joseph’s eve when Padre Inno- 
cenza had taken Dr. Polwarth as his confidant 
he had two main objects in life — to find the child 
which he had lost through the Innocent! and to 
train his people in religious and political free- 
dom. The Padre was diligent in the pursuit 
of either aim ; again and again did he seek some 
distant town or some mountain hamlet to ex- 


256 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

amine some child suggested to him by the 
managers of the Innocenti ; and yet the Padre 
never found a child in the least likely to be the 
one he haji sought to lose; moreover he was 
greatly afraid of fixing on some wrong child 
and giving the Marchese Forano a spurious heir. 
Influenced by this fear, he at last ceased to 
search for the lost one. In teaching his congre- 
gation the Padre succeeded better, but he could 
not give them richer knowledge than he had 
himself He had not reached Luther’s height 
of justification by faith;” his instructions about 
the Madonna and the Saints wavered very much; 
they were not to be worshipped, but to be rev- 
erenced, and God was honored in honoring his 
notable servants; a church without a confes- 
sional never dawned on Padre Innocenza’s mind; 
it had helped him to unburden his heart to Dr. 
Polwarth, and ignorant people needed more of 
such help in a more fixed form ; he had no idea 
that his flock could walk straight to heaven, after 
Christ the leader, without having Padre Innocenza 
to catechise them about all their crooks and 
stumbles on the road. As to the Eucharist, the 
Padre could not see in it a memorial sacrament ; he 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 257 

could not dissever it from the idea of sacrifice ; 
if sacrifice then there must be a bodily presence ; 
and so the priest hovered over a real presence 
that was not exactly what his teachers had 
taught him, not exactly what Luther held, not 
what Protestants held, a purely spiritual presence 
— it was, on the whole, a presence a la Padre 
Innocenza, and nobody understood it, least of 
all himself! Indeed, we have in this man an 
Italian and less famous Pere Hyacinthe ! 

Yet with all these hindrances and drawbacks 
the Padre was really making progress, and his 
people were making progress. The parish of Sta. 
Maria Maggiore breathed a purer air. A new 
loyalty, honesty, activity awoke in these peasant 
souls; the darkness of their minds passed; the 
truths, especially the historical and biographical 
facts of the Bible, were not hidden from them. 
Some of Nanni Conti’s hymns and tracts were 
scattered among those who could read, and, best 
of all, the Padre taught a school wherein the 
children made wondrous advance, for the priest 
was a zealous teacher, and Italian children have 
remarkably sharp wits. 

Although this parish was perched high among 

22* ' R 


258 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

the hills, and heretofore nobody had taken a 
particle of interest in its comings and goings, 
at last a rumor of the “ new doings,” “new doc- 
trines” there, spread abroad, and drifted to 
the ears of the duomo priests in Leghorn, Pisa, 
Lucca and Firenze. These magnates considered 
the direful reports for a time, sent a spy or two, 
perhaps, to ask questions, and now a cordon of 
evidence was drawn about the active priest, and 
the end of the chain was laid in the hand of 
his diocesan at Firenze. The Bishop prepared 
to draw matters a little tighter around the Padre. 
First came a letter with some general- cautions 
against “too much preaching,” “too much 
teaching,” “permitting private judgment,” “mak- 
ing stirs,” and so forth, and so forth. 

The Padre’s answer was far from satisfactory. 
It suggested that his flock had souls and that he 
had duties ; his people’s souls must be enlight- 
ened, he must perform his duties; it also re- 
spectfully hinted that the Padre felt his respon- 
sibility to an Authority higher than any mortal. 

It was not long before the Bishop, by his sec- 
retary, responded to this evil document by ad- 
dressing a long reprimand to Padre Innocenza, 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


259 


and demanding categorically if he had done, 
said, taught, thought certain heresies reported 
against him. The Padre felt the net closing 
about him, but his courage rose. He replied so 
clearly to his superior that he received a sum- 
mons at once to repair to Florence for an inves- 
tigation of his affairs. 

Padre Innocenza received this letter on a 
Friday. He understood his position. He was 
held as a priest of Rome ; he would by Rome 
be prohibited preaching; the church, burial 
ground, and priest’s house at Sta. Maria were 
church property; he could be ejected, the doors 
closed, a new priest sent in his room. All 
his labors for these people ended; then sud- 
denly the great love which had grown in his 
heart for these his nurslings in the faith surged 
over his soul, and the poor Padre, foreseeing his 
bereavement, wept bitterly. However, he must 
act, not weep. He sent word among all his 
people that he had an especial need to see them 
on the Sabbath, and that not one must be miss- 
ing. Accordingly, on Sunday the chapel was 
crowded, old and young, men, women, and 
babes filling every seat, and standing in every 


260 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

aisle and corner to hear what Padre Innocenza 
had to say. The Padre reviewed what had for- 
merly been taught and done in that parish, and 
the course he had latterly adopted ; he explained 
to them what he understood as the errors of 
Rome, and the injuries that the Papal Church 
had inflicted on the minds, hearts, and liberties 
of the Italian people. He then told them that 
he was summoned to answer in Florence, but 
that he had no fears for himself, especially under 
the present government; still he felt sure that 
he would not be allowed to return to the church 
of his love, the Bishop would close its doors 
against him, and if he should strive to force 
himself back it would occasion persecutions, 
quarrels, lawsuits, and perhaps deeds of violence. 
He therefore desired his people to consider well 
if they believed his recent teachings, that they 
should bind themselves together to obtain good 
instruction, and not only to hold fast the truth 
which they had received, but to go on in grace 
and knowledge. 

At this point the impressible Italians burst 
into such a storm of lamentations and bewailings, 
tears, sobs, protestations, that the Padre could 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


261 


not continue his address, but was obliged to 
leave his pulpit. The people pressed about him, 
kissing his hands and his clothes, entreating his 
blessing. Some desired him to remain among 
them and defy the Bishop; but the Padre felt 
that such a course would be inexpedient — ^he 
must go to Firenze and speak for himself. 

Presently a very large, elderly man — one ac- 
knowledged as a leader in the Parish — mounted 
on a bench, and in a loud voice stilled his con- 
freres. He then addressed to the priest a series 
of questions concerning his differences with the 
Papal Church. 

“We desire to know where you stand, father.’' 

The Padre replied succinctly to each demand. 

“You may then, finally, O Padre, be called an 
Evangelical ? ’’ 

“Yes, I may,” replied the priest. 

“Tell us. Padre, were you an Evangelical in 
those days when you taught us nothing, and 
only cared to receive the dues from us ? ” 

“No, mio amico, I was then a good priest of 
Rome.” 

“You remember. Padre, you preached us, one 
happy morning, a sermon about how God made 


262 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORAHO. 

the world — we may call it your first real sermon 
to us, though since then we have to bless you 
• for many sermons — were you t/ien an Evan- 
gelical ? ” 

“I think that then I was beginning to be 
one. 

“And since then you have taught us many 
things; you have been our friend and father; 
you have taught our children ; there has been a 
progression in your teachings— is it because 
there has also been a progression in your Evan- 
gelism ? ” 

“ That is it, my friend. I have gone on more 
and more in the doctrine of the Evangelicals, 
and have tried to lead you with me.” 

“ Then, Padre — I speak for myself and for all 
here — we are for the Evangelice : that suits us : 
it makes us men; it regards our minds and 
seeks our happiness as well as the church does. 
Davvero ! we will have here no one but an 
Evangelical ! ” 

To this all the congregation agreed with cries 
and shouts. 

The Padre had told his people that early the 
next day he should set off for Florence, and 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


263 


should probably never see them as a congrega- 
tion again. The assembly broke up late in the day. 
Padre Inhocenza was so absorbed in grief that 
he did not notice the business which seemed 
to be transacted among the people ; small coins 
were collected, and the women gave gold beads 
off the chains which the young peasants delight 
to wear, or the pendants of their ear-rings. 

Early the next morning the priest opened the 
door of his beloved home to set out on his 
journey. He found twelve of the leading 
peasants of his parish standing near it. 

“You have come early to bid me farewell, 
amici! ” 

“ No, Signore ; we have come to accompany 
you.” 

Amici, it is not possible; it will cost you 
much to go and come,” remonstrated the priest, 
considering their poverty. 

“ But we have money — it has been contributed 
by all the people. ' We go in their name to pro- 
tect you.” 

“ But I do not need protection ; I am quite 
safe, amici! ” 

Cospetto ! *' said the chief spokesman, “we 


264 THE OATHKEEPER OF FORANO. 

are not so clear about that Priests have gone 
to * answer/ and have never been heard of after. 
Possibly Tuscany has not outgrown her old 
ways. We have heard of torture — eh, also of 
inquisition, and bonfires on the Piazza del 
Duomo! No, no. Padre; you may be safe 
enough, but we don’t exactly feel it. We go 
with you ; we walk with you into the presence 
of Ser. Bishop; we come out of that presence 
with you. We say, ‘ Ser. Bishop, possibly it is 
law for you to remove our Padre, to send us 
another Padre ; the church may be yours ; we 
contadini know little; we only know if you 
remove this Evangelical you must look sharp to 
send us another Evangelical or he won’t fit, Ser. 
Bishop, he won’t fit ! ” 

With this goodly retinue did Padre Innocenza 
go to Firenze. The sturdy contadini refused to 
allow their priest to enter the Bishop’s presence 
without them, and their refusals were so loud- 
mouthed at the gate of the Episcopal Palace, 
that the Bishop feared a tumult, for Italians are 
easily betrayed into what they call “ revolutions 
of the street.” The men of “ Sta. Maria Mag- 
giore of the hills ” were therefore admitted to the 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 265 

palace court, and as this did not satisfy, they 
came also with their priest into the audience- 
hall, where the Bishop and several minor dig- 
nitaries were prepared to sit in judgment on his 
case. The court, thus improvised, did not hold 
a long sitting. The Bishop was judge, and the 
other ecclesiastics were all opposing counsel 
who pleaded against the prisoner. There was 
no need of witnesses against the accused, for he 
was to be condemned out of his own mouth. 
There was no question that he was a dangerous 
renegade, a heretic, an Evangelical. The twelve 
contadini were a self-constituted jury which the 
court did not recognize. The judge charged 
this jury, however, that the culprit was heinously 
guilty. The jury unanimously bellowed that 
the charge was not proven. The judge, how- 
ever, took the decision into his own hands, pro- 
nounced Padre Innocenza “guilty,” and sen- 
tenced him never to preach more, also to leave 
his parish immediately. At this decree the 
ecclesiastical court loudly applauded, but the 
contadini jury shouted that the finding of the 
judge was false and vile. After this deliverance 
of their views, the twelve men surrounded Padre 
23 


I 


266 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

Innocenza with a living wall, set their faces to- 
ward the door, and conquering all opposition, 
bore him triumphantly into the street, thence to 
a trattoria where they all feasted on maccaroni. 

The next day the Padre Innocenza and his 
party returned home, but the Bishop had been 
beforehand with them : he had availed himself 
of that “ evil of the age,” the electric telegraph, 
and the Padre found his church locked, and an 
opponent in possession of his parsonage. 

There remained nothing for the ousted priest 
to do but to depart. Now, there is no man so 
poor and helpless as an Italian priest of ordinary 
attainments when he breaks with his church. 
He has had no private means ; his living has been 
meagre. Cardinals and bishops have seen to it 
that he has had but the barest pittance for sup- 
port ; he has no treasures, no library, no ward- 
robe ; he goes out of his church stripped of all 
possessions. This was Innocenza’s case, and 
but for the sturdy interference of his parishioners 
he would not have been permitted to enter his 
late home to take the few trifles which belonged 
to him. The “ twelve,” however, forced a way 
for him into the house, and Padre Innocenza 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


267 


gathered up his effects. Here is the entire list 
of the belongings of this man : 

An old leather portmanteau, three shirts, 
the clothes he wore and an ancient cloth cloak, 
two little books bought from Nanni Conti, 
eight pairs of socks, gifts from the old women 
of his flock, his psalter, missal and breviary, two 
silk handkerchiefs and a pair of gloves. The 
Padre was not burdened with baggage ! Mis- 
fortunes had pursued him, for his horse had died 
a month before. He had nothing to sell, and 
but twenty-seven francs — about twenty-two 
shillings and six pence, or five and a half dollars 
— in his pocket. He lodged that night with one 
of his friends, and preached to an assembly of 
nearly all his people in the open air, while the 
new priest sent from Pisa glowered out of the 
parsonage window. 

The next morning Innocenza set out to see 
Dr. Polwarth. A priest thus leaving his church 
has no means of support ; he knows nothing of 
any kind of labor ; nine-tenths of the population 
everywhere are against him ; if he is not mar- 
vellously enlightened, keen of mind, quick of 
attainment, and deeply spiritual — a De Sanctis 


268 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

in fact — he cannot become a pastor or teacher 
in the Vaudois Church, where trained men are 
needed and possessed. He has no one to sup- 
port him; he must leave his country to earn 
his bread — and how will he earn it? To a man 
like Innocenza there was no?hing open but 
teaching Italian, and he must therefore go where 
some one desired to learn Italian. Thus dole- 
fully circumstanced he appeared once more in 
the study of Dr. Polwarth. The Doctor had 
dealt with such cases before ; he knew that the 
ex-priest must go to England, but how to get 
him there?. The journey was expensive; who 
could provide means ? 

The Doctor was a wise man ; he always made 
his wife his counsellor. He had ever reaped 
the benefit of so doing, and he reaped it again 
in this case. The Doctor told his tale, and 
explained concerning the trouble, the danger, 
the expense, who would provide; but Mrs. 
Polwarth sweetly cut him short, saying: 

It is as plain as possible, my dear. The man 
must go with Mr. Tompkins in his yacht. The 
yacht is lying in the bay now ; you have only to 
lay the case before Tompkins. There is room 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. 


269 


plenty, food plenty. Mr. Tompkins will be glad 
of the company.” Then, as she was a woman 
who always honestly referred benefits to their 
source, Mrs. Polwarth added: “It seems to me 
that the Lord has sent this yacht here for this 
very emergency. There might have been no 
yacht, or a yacht with a wild, ungenerous cap- 
tain ; but here is Mr. Tompkins, a true gentle- 
man.” 

The Tompkins yacht! We have reached a 
theme beyond our pen. It was the fastest yacht, 
the handsomest, the sharpest built, the trimmest- 
rigged, the tallest-masted, largest-sailed, finest- 
furnished, best-manned yacht afloat. (We have 
all this on the authority of Tompkins.) 

To this yacht did Dr. Polwarth repair by 
means of a small boat, and speedily the ruddy 
countenance of Tompkins appeared, rising out 
of the cabin staircase like a new sun. Mr. 
Tompkins’ first move was to pay the Doctor’s 
boatman and dismiss him; his next to force the 
Doctor into the cabin, where a goodly dinner 
had just been laid on the table. So well did the 
Doctor prosper that before the third course had 
been dispatched it had been agreed that Padre 
23 * 


270 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Innocenza should go to England with the Tomp- 
kins, and that the small boat of the yacht should 
bring him off at night. 

Dr. Polwarth by mail commended him to 
a London pastor, and gave him several letters 
of introduction to merchants at the capital who 
might be in want of an Italian correspondent. 
Thus did our poverty-struck Padre Inno.cenza, 
his goods, briefly catalogued, and all his expec- 
tations vague, with his whole fortune tied up in 
one pocket-handkerchief, go forth an exile. 

The first part of his experiences were not un- 
pleasant. The weather and the accommodations 
were everything that could be wished, the owner 
was exceedingly kind to the Padre, and a good 
sailor. Mr. Tompkins taught the priest English 
and he in return taught Tompkins a better style 
of Italian than he had been using; the priest 
proved the better scholar. So agreeable did 
the Padre make himself to his host, that 
when they parted at Portsmouth, Tompkins felt 
deeply bereft, and ' veiy nearly proposed to es- 
tablish the fugitive as yacht chaplain. In lieu 
of this he gave him a note to a former butler 
of his, who let lodgings of a neat and cheap 


A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. . 271 

variety. He also instructed him about cabs and 
fares, bought his ticket to London, and slipped 
ten pounds into his hand as a parting gift. The 
Padre was thus provided with a decent home, 
some one to help out his stammering speech and 
guide his ignorance, and ten pounds to keep the 
wolf at bay until he was able to earn something. 

The pastor to whom Dr. Polwarth had written 
gave Innocenza advice and two pupils; the busi- 
ness men threw some Italian correspondence 
in his way. But Padre Innocenza had another 
subject on his mind besides self-support: he 
had become possessed with a desire to see Judith 
Forano, confess his crimes against her, tell what 
he had done with her child, and ask her if her 
mother heart could devise anything to rescue the 
lost one and restore it to its rights. Pursuing 
this plan Padre Innocenza, who had obtained 
Judith’s address from Dr. Polwarth, went to her 
home, and was dismissed as we have shown. 

Padre Innocenza was one of those natures 
rendered more tenacious by rebuff; difficulties, 
instead of daunting, inspired him. As soon as 
he knew that Judith Forano was out of his 
reach his whole mind was absorbed in finding 


272 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

her. He wrote to Dr. Polwarth; the Doctor ap- 
plied to Honor Maxwell. Honor, some little 
time after, had a letter from Mrs. Bruce^ stating 
that Judith had come to her. Slowly this news 
traveled around to Padre Innocenza, in London. 
The Padre had but just provided maintenance 
for himself in London; he was not possessed of 
means to pay for his passage to America, but go 
he must; a letter would not satisfy him: he 
must see Judith Forano. There is a certain kind 
of pride dwelling in Americans and English of 
which Italians are destitute. As he could do no 
better. Padre Innocenza accomplished his set 
purpose by engaging as a waiter on a steamer 
bound for New York. We are told that he per- 
formed his duties well. His possessions were 
much the same as when he left Italy. He re- 
ceived letters to several merchants and one or 
two ministers, and thus fyrnished for whatever 
might befall him, off went Padre Innocenza in 
search of Judith Forano. 


CHAPTER IX. 


LEADINa THE BLIND. 

* What wilt thou that I should do unto thee ? ” 

“ Lord, that I might receive my sight.” 

W E have seen that Honor Maxwell was ex- 
tremely cautious in her conversations 
with the Marchesa on the subject of religion, 
not because she desired to conceal her own 
views, nor because she was indifferent to the 
spiritual well-being of her friend, but because 
she feared to awaken in the good lady’s mind 
an antagonism to truth and close her heart to 
instruction. Honor’s was the “ slow hastening ” 
of wisdom. 

Finding that the Marchesa had an absolute 
horror of the Bible, Honor concluded to take 
her some books which presented Bible truths in 
a clear and attractive form. Before going to 
the Villa Anteta, in the summer of 1864, she 

purchased a copy of “ Lucille,” by Monod, an 
6 ( 273 ) 


274 THE OATH KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Italian translation issued from the Waldensian 
press ; she also applied to Dr. Polwarth for an 
Italian copy of “The Blood of Jesus.” 

“ They are scarce,” said the Doctor, “ but I 
think I can find you one. Mrs. Polwarth, where 
is the blue volume called *The Blood of 
Jesus?’” 

“ I gave it to the Vaudois pastor,” said Mrs. 
Polwarth. 

“ I think we have a black copy.” 

Inquiry being made for this. Miss Polwarth 
was found to have lent it to a Signora, who had 
declined to return it. 

“ There was a red copy,” said Mrs. Polwarth. ^ 

But the red copy had been sent on a mission 
to an Italian soldier. 

“Ah ! the extra gift copy ! ” cried the Doctor. 

“ Why, my dear,” said his wife, “ do you not 
remember that when the court spent a month 
here I sent that as a gift to one of the ladies of 
the Princess Margarita, hoping that it might do 
some good in that circle.” 

The Doctor thought long; he and his wife 
and his books were always at work. 

“ I have it,” he said; “at my new depository 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


275 


on the Corso, on the top shelf, there is a 
copy in paper covers; you can go and ask for 
that.” 

Yes; by this time the Doctor had even been 
able to open a depository for Evangelical books, 
and his wife had started three schools. When 
we remember these things, we may, with all true 
Tuscans, honor Vittorio Emmanuelo! 

Miss Maxwell carried her two books to the 
country, and before long lent the book called 
“ The Blood of Jesus ” to Signora Forano. 
Several days after she asked her : 

“And how do you like the book. Signora 
mia ? ” 

“ Why, carissimay it is not so very good. I 
can’t understand it. And there’s that dream in 
the first part: my common sense tells me that 
we must put no reliance on dreams.” 

“ But, Signora, that is only in the introduction. 
How did you like the book itself? ” 

“I can’t understand it. So our priests tell 
us about the blood in the holy mass, and un- 
bloody sacrifice, and all that. I understand 
none of it.” 

“Yet this book and the theory of the mass do 


276 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

not seem to me at all alike: one contradicts 
reason, the other enlightens reason.’* 

^*Ah ? Well, mia cara^ you Americans under- 
stand everything ! ” 

Greatly distressed that the book from which 
she had hoped so much, had accomplished so 
little. Honor remained silent. 

That evening she reflected that to this thirsty 
soul she had presented the wine of life in a 
merely human vessel ; and this vessel, good in 
her eyes, had burdened and offended the Mar- 
chesa. Would it not be better to give the 
precious draught of life in the cup of the 
Master’s own making? 

So she waited for another day, and on such a 
day, when she and the Marchesa were walking 
in the vineyard, the Marchesa said, looking 
around on all the lovely scene: 

“Ah, Signorina ! how charming this world 
would be without sin! ” 

“ Marchesa,” said Honor, quickly, “ I have a 
word for you. The blood of Jesus Christ, his 
Son, cleanseth us from all sin.” 

''Eccoy said the Marchesa, “ it seems to me 
that I have heard or thought something like 
that; do say it once more.” 


LEADING THE BLIND, 277 

^ Honor quietly and hopefully repeated the 
^ verse. 

“ There now,” said the Marchesa, drawing 
a deep breath, “and it is not your own pray- 
ers, so full of sin, nor yet plenaria indiilgenzay 
is it ? ” 

“ Only the blood of Jesus Christ, his Son.” 

“ Does it entirely, think you?” 

“ Cleanseth, and to be clean before God, must 
. be clean indeed.” 

“Oh, that is what we want! And leaves 
nothing for penances, nothing for purgatory?” 
urged Madame Forano. 

“From all sin. Signora.” 

“ I don’t think, mia cara^ that you could or 
would deceive me.” 

“Assuredly not ; and God has said this him- 
self.” 

“And God cannot lie. Here, then, Signorina, 
is a wonderful saying. I take hold of it with 
real satisfaction. These are words not like 
other words — they come, mia cara, like sunshine 
to the heart.” 

Honor went home to tell Uncle Francini what 

had passed. She rejoiced as one finding great 
24 


278 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

spoil. She looked on her dear Marchesa as 
taken out of the miry clay and the horrible pit. 
But Honor’s hopes outran facts. The next time 
she saw her friend, the cautious old lady had 
had leisure to consider, and dreading nothing 
so much as being what she called a turn-coat, 
she was more reserved on the subject of religion 
than ever before. 

Soon after, on a bright morning, the Marchesa 
came early to the Villa Anteta, and asked Honor 
to make an excursion on the hills with her to 
engage a hew servant. 

*‘And why have you discharged Baptista?” 
asked Honor, as they rode slowly between the 
rose hedges and olive orchards. 

“On account of plenaria indulgenzaP replied 
the Marchesa. 

“ Why, I don’t understand you,” said Honor. 

“This is the case, Signorina: I say my prayers, 
as a poor sinner should. I go to church, kneel 
in my place, and ask God for what I want. I , 
don’t believe a word of that lie set over the door 
— ^Plenaria Ltdulgenza' It is against my com- 
mon sense that a few words said to God in a 
certain time or place would get us leave from 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


279 


him to do what he says we must not do. God 
don’t change his mind like that, I’m sure. 
When God says do not steal, my saying ten 
more prayers will not make stealing harmless 
in me. Now, Baptista always went to a plenaria 
indiilgenza chapel, for all it is twice as far as 
our chapel; and the more she went to church, 
the more our wine and our oil disappeared. So 
yesterday the Marchese went into the kitchen, 
and he said : * Baptista, have you plenaria indul- 
genza ? ’ She said : ‘ si, Signore.’ So he went 
on, quite calm : ‘ Then, pray, Baptista, where do 
all our bottles go?’ *Davvero' said she; ‘I 
know nothing about your bottles. Signore.’ 
‘The truth is,’ said my husband, ‘for every 
bottle that comes to our table one goes off with 
you, Baptista. Now, all I want to ask is, if you 
have plenaria indulgenza, and you should want 
to take off our oil and wine, do you not feel free 
to do it under the indulgence? Can you not 
get indulgence, expecting to take off my bottles ? ’ 
‘ Oh ! as to that. Signore,’ says Baptista, ‘ I could 
if I chose ; but that is not saying that I ever do 
carry off your oil and wine, sicora!^ ‘It is 
enough, Baptista,’ said he. ‘Depart; plenaria 


280 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

indulgenza has ever been very expensive to 
masters/ And so, to end my story, mia cara^ I 
go to look for another kitchen-maid who does 
not deal in plenaria indulgenza. We are not 
rich enough to lose much, Signorina ; and it is 
a double injury when a person can rob you and 
have no prickings of conscience.” * 

Several days after this expedition, Gulio Ravi 
lost his favorite neck-handkerchief, and vowed a 
picture to the shrine of the Virgin, on the cross- 
ways, if he might find it. He did find it within 
a few hours, for Master Michael had taken it 
from a post in the vineyard, and used it as a 
collar to lead home his big dog. Uncle Fran- 
cini, beholding the spoil, had ordered the boy 
to carry it back, with a peace-offering of half a 
franc. When Gulio thus recovered his property, 
he began to consider that he had been too hasty 
in vowing, for he would have received the hand- 
kerchief without heavenly help; besides, he 
began to feel that it was hardly worth the price 
of a picture. Being bound by his vow, for he 
held this form of speech in great awe, Gulio set 
himself to redeem it at the least possible cost, 
and eventually purchased a hideous little wood- 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


281 


cut of the temptation of St. Anthony, for which 
he gave three centessimi^ or half a cent This 
he nailed up on the inside of the shrine. Here 
it met the eyes of the Marchesa and Honor, 
who had brought their embroidery to the Pa- 
vilion to enjoy the morning air. The Marchesa 
regarded the votive gift with scorn. “ What a 
hideous thing ! ” she cried, taking it from the 
wall, and tearing it up. “ What folly is this 
talk of the temptations of the saints! They 
needn’t tell me such stuff; nor yet that the 
blessed Sen Jesus was tempted. That Satan 
could tempt Christ is against all common sense, 
and I told the Padre so. Why, God could not 
be tempted by Satan any more than by that 
block of wood. No, I said to the Padre, you 
may keep these things for ignorant people, if it 
is not against your conscience to tell them, but 
don’t tell me of them. Why, down at the 
duomo I heard a priest say that Satan was a 
fallen angel I Do I believe that ? No ; of course 
an angel couldn’t fall. I told the Padre so.” 

“And what did he say to these contradic- 
tions ? ” asked Honor. 

'^Mia cara^ what could he say? I had the 
24 * 


282 


THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA HO. 


best of it I always hold to my common sense; 
he merely smiled, and said it was quite imma- 
terial. But I told him no matter of faith was 
immaterial, and moreover, that I knew who the 
devil was. I have made up my mind, Signorina, 
Cain was the devil.” 

“And who tempts men to sin, Signora?” 
asked Honor. 

“ The devil, to be sure.” 

“ But Cain was a man : who tempted him ? 
There must have been a devil back of him. 
And who tempted Eve? Not Cain, for Cain 
was not then born.” 

^^Davvero! I see, I see. Cain could not 
have been the devil — who then was it ? Some- 
body, surely. Not an angel who fell, for angels 
cannot fall; if one fell, why not all of them? 
Probably God, when he made everything, made 
a devil too — and yet that is not reasonable, for 
God is good, and can God create evil ? ” 

Alas! poor Marchesa, she had fallen on a 
knotty theme, the genesis of sin 1 Honor pitied 
the poor brain bewildered by its own queries, 
stumbling upon Adamic sin and temptation. 
She spoke soothingly : “ Dear Marchesa, perhaps 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


283 


it is our duty to let this question pass, as one 
which does not concern us, as it does not affect 
the salvation of our souls. We do not know 
who the Tempter is, or whence he came, only 
let us eschew him and all his works. Let us 
look at a blessed object, Christ the Friend of 
sinners, who never casts out any who come to 
him, who died for us, that we might inherit 
everlasting life.” 

“Yes,” said the Marchesa, seriously, “that is 
the good news : that is what I think. Of course 
I don’t speak of going to hell : oh, no ; I think 
few get there but the very bad. Between doing 
the best we can, and penances and purgatory if 
anything is left over, we are very likely to get 
clear. For my part I know, whatever any one 
may say, that God would think* a great many 
times before he sent an honest, religious woman 
like me to the evil place, to keep company with 
such an one as the devil,” and the Signora 
returned to her embroidery with exceeding con- 
tent 

“Oh, Uncle Francini,” cried Honor, when she 
returned to her house, “ she is just as far back as 
ever! She is so blind, the dear, kind creature, 


284 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

she disbelieves every true thing the priest tells 
her, and everything I tell her, and her common 
sense leads her wrong as often as right.” 

Courage, figlia mia',' cried the good uncle, 
is it not written, ‘ I will bring the blind by a 
way that they know not ; ’ that the * eyes of the 
blind shall be opened and the ears of the deaf 
shall be unstopped ? ’ ‘ Since the world began was 
it not heard that any man opened the eyes of 
one that was born blind;’ but Christ has caused 
very many that were blind to see.” 

In the midst of her disappointment Honor 
remembered her copy of “ Lucille,” so she 
waited for a favorable opportunity and handed 
it to the Marchesa, saying ; 

It is a little story of a lady who, like your- 
self, feared to read the Bible ; and it tells of con- 
versations on that subject — will you not read 
it?” 

“Is it true, Signorina?” 

“ Quite true, I understand.” 

The Marchesa took the book, but returned it 
in a few days, saying that it “bewildered her,” 
she “could not comprehend it. It told of 
things as they were years ago perhaps.” 


LEADING THE BLIND. 285 

*^You know my church has changed very 
much of late, Signorina.” 

“ Has it ? I thought it was an unchangeable 
church, always the same.” 

“ Oh, by no means. It has changed, evidently. 
Why, years ago it had the inquisition, and burned 
people. I don’t believe in any kind of persecu- 
tion, imprisonment, fines — any punishment for 
opinion’s sake. Let men answer to God for 
opinion.” 

“ But, Marchesa, it is only a few years since 
the Count Guicciardini was exiled, Cechetti was 
imprisoned, and the Madai were sent to the gal- 
leys — all for conscience sake.” 

Dear Signorina, I am sorry you have been 
misinformed. My priest told me all about it. 
These people were not dealt with on account of 
opinion, or of Bible-reading, but under the guise 
of religious conference, and so on, they were 
exciting rebellion against the Grand Duke’s gov- 
ernment, and for that they were punished ; but 
it was kept quiet, lest sedition should spread. 
And the proof of that is that the rebellion did 
spread until the Grand Duke was driven out, 
and the king came in, in i860.” 


286 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Honor - maintaining a silence which was not 
very acquiescent, the Marchesa continued : 

If I had lived in days of persecution, I think 
I should have joined the Evangelicals, for it is 
ever my nature to side with the weak. Besides, 
if my church so feared inquiry and opposition I 
should say to her: * Only darkness dreads light; 
only iniquity fears searching out’ But see, my 
church is fitted to this advanced and liberal age : 
she gives religious freedom and asks it. Are not 
the Evangelic! now free in all Piedmont and 
Tuscany ?” 

“ But I attributed that to the Liberal Govern- 
ment, Signora.” 

“Oh, no, to the church. Under the Grand 
Duke the church was not permitted by the state 
to be liberal, and give religious freedom ; she 
obeyed Austrian ways. Under this government 
she can be liberal, and so she is. Yes, my 
church is very different from what she was two 
or three hundred years ago.” 

“Are you sure, Signora — sure that no . more 
persecutions will break out? sure that no priests 
will lead them on?” 

“ Signorina, you nearly make me angry. I 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


287 


am sure — yes, I promise you on my word as a 
Forano — that if ever, in my time, my church, her 
people or her priests take violence and sword to 
use against opinion^ become persecutors, light 
more fires for martyrs, I, the Marchesa Forano, 
from that hour will become an Evangelical.” 

Dear, impulsive Marchesa, she thought she 
was very safe in making that promise in 1864, 
and Honor Maxwell thought that the day of her 
change lay very far away ; nor did she desire it 
to hasten, if it must rise baptized in blood. 

Nothing had so amazed the Marchesa as the 
news that Padre Innocenza had been driven 
from his parish by the Bishop and had de- 
clared himself an Evangelical. The word trav- 
eled to the Forano Villa. Gulio Ravi brought 
the tale to the Marcheae. Said the old gentle- 
man : 

If it was written that the man should break 
his vow and be a renegade to his church, I 
would that it had pleased God that it had hap- 
pened before my poor Nicole died. If Padre 
Innocenza had been then an Evangelical, he 
would not have helped conceal the marriage, 
nor would he deny its validity ; then we might • 


288 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

have looked after them, and possibly have pre- 
served the babe.” 

“ Let me go to Sta. Maria and get the true 
story about the Padre,” suggested Gulio, secretly 
hoping, but wildly, to get some word that might 
release him from the cruel bondage of his oath. 

Therefore Gulio went to Sta. Maria in the 
hills, but of course heard nothing that concerned 
himself ; however he returned full of news. 

‘‘All the parish has become Evangelici. Not 
one will go hear the new Padre. He said mass 
in an empty church, and in the midst the boy 
who assisted him — who had assisted Padre In- 
nocenza formerly — changed his mind and ran 
away. The next time the boy would not put on 
his surplice and come, until the Padre gave him 
a thrashing : then he - went ; and that evening 
down comes his father and gives him a thrash- 
ing for going, and so drags him off by the collar. 
The new Padre brought a boy from Pisa. At 
last the Bishop sent another Padre, thinking he 
would be better received. What do these people 
do but march up in a body to the chapel, roaring : 
‘Are you an Evangelical ? ’ So the Padre said 
‘No,’ and cursed all Evangelicals. ‘We are 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


289 


Evangelici ! ’ bellowed these people, and away 
they went; and one of them climbed a wall, and, 
sitting on the top, read a little book aloud, a 
book sold to him by that disastrous Nanni 
Conti, whose mission it is to disturb the content 
of honest souls.” 

Although we have this story from Gulio Ravi, 
we find that it is nearly true, the facts at Sta. 
Maria Maggiore of the hills having surpassed 
even the highest efforts of that ingenious young 
man’s imagination. 

The fact that he was bound by an oath to an 
avowed heretic ate into Gulio’s soul like a 
canker. Must he see the Marchese lonely and 
heirless because he had made an oath to a rene- 
gade ? Afraid to decide for himself, he went to 
his master. 

Signore, if I make an oath to a man, and 
that man turns heretic, am I not at liberty to 
break my oath?” he demanded. 

His change of mind can make no difference 
in your obligations,” said the unsuspecting 
Marchese. 

On another occasion Gulio made a second 
charge. 

25 


T 


290 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Does a priest lose his powers and abilities 
by turning Evangelical, as Padre Innocenza 
did?” 

“I don’t see that he loses anything but his 
parish,” said the Marchese, tranquilly: “that and 
his position in his first church.” 

^^Sicora!'' mumbled Gulio to himself; “then 
the old Padre is as able to curse and torment 
and ruin me as ever.” 

That very evening Nanni Conti, on his way 
to Firenze, passed by the Villa Forano, and 
Gulio chanced to see him. He resolved to take 
Nanni’s opinion, so he asked : 

“Are oaths binding ? ” 

“ To be sure they are,” replied Nanni. 

“ But suppose you make an oath to do or keep 
something, or give or sell, or marry — any oath 
— and after wish you had not?” 

“God says,” replied Nanni, solemnly, “that 
it is better not to vow than to vow and not 
pay.” 

“Oh, it’s all over with me,” groaned Gulio 
to himself. “ My poor master, I must see you 
die unsatisfied!” 

Then, in hour§ of mad imaginations, Gulio 


LEADING THE BLIND. 


291 


wondered if an oath were binding after its 
exactor were dead. If not, he would get a dis- 
pensation, search the world over, and murder 
that renegade Padre, and so be free. Gulio’s 
soul swelled within him at the thought. Jolly 
Gulio, he would not have murdered his greatest 
enemy. Still he thought he would make way 
with the Padre. But would he be a gainer? 
He asked the Marchese: 

“ Signore' if I make an oath to a man who 
dies, then when he is dead am I free ? ” 

“An oath for his lifetime, or for always?’^ 
asked the Marchese. 

“For always,” faltered Gulio. 

“Then keep it always, you foolish fellow; you 
torment me continually about oaths. Make no 
more, make no more, Gulio.” 

“I won’t; I syv^ear — ” 

“There you are again !” said the Marchese. 

“Tell me yet. Signore: have you heard that 
people have the power to haunt you after they 
are dead?” 

“ I have heard it, Gulio.” 

“And is it true, think you? Suppose you had 
killed a man?” 


292 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Horrible supposition ! ” exclaimed the gentle 
Marchese. Yes, Gulio, then I think .he would 
haunt me.” 

‘‘Alas! I am lost!” moaned Gulio. 

“What, what, Gulio! Have you killed any 
one?” 

“No; I had only made up my mind to — if it 
would pay. Signore.” 


CHAPTER X. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 

“ They lanced his flesh with knives j after that they stoned 
him with stones; then pricked him with their swords; and 
last of all they burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came 
Faithful to his end.’’ 

I F, in the autumn of 1865, we desired to visit 
Barletta, we might have Nanni Conti for a 
fellow-traveller ; for in all the mellow glory of 
an Italian October we find him journeying 
through Southern Tuscany, turning aside by 
Ortobello and climbing the hills — as he has 
done many a time since he and Sandro passed 
that same way — to visit the patriarch and his* 
wife in the lonely mountain casetta. As Nanni 
surmounted the last ascent, and the road lay 
level before him as it wound through the wood, 
he saw the old dame Marie standing in her 
doorway, and the huge form of her aged hus- 
band moving along .the clearing, followed as 
25 * ( 293 ) 


294 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

usual by his dog and two goats. The old 
mother at once began waving a welcome, but 
the man stood as one transfixed with pained 
surprise ; and not until Nanni was near enough 
to take his hand did the cotter look in the Evan- 
gelist’s face. He replied to Nanni’s cheery 
greeting by a question, asked eagerly: 

"‘Saw you no one between us, my son?” 
saw none but yourself, Monna Marie, and 
these brutes.” 

“I saw some one. The Capuchin friar Bene- 
detto. He was nearer you than ever before, yet 
he did not touch you.” 

“You have often warned me against the friar, 
father,” said Nanni, as he entered the cottage; 
“and I frequently meet him in the streets of Bar- 
letta. Hitherto I have had nothing from him 
but maledictions, and I trust in God’s mercy to 
get no worse at the man’s hand. As for the 
curses, my father, you know the Arabians say, 
^ Curses, like chickens, come home to roost.’ ” 

“ Do not despise warning, my son, even from 
me. I myself do not know the meaning of my 
visions, nor whence they come.” 

“ I do not despise them. I believe these im- 


LEAFING ALL FOR CHRIST. 295 

pressions of yours are the result of your long 
anxieties, dangers, loneliness, and your care for 
me and my friends. Yet I think God often 
warns and guards his children by very simple 
means. Your words have made me careful not 
to disturb the friar in any needless manner. I 
have thought that there might be a danger 
hanging over the children of our families — that 
the friar might capture some of them, as in the 
Mortara case, and we not be able to regain pos- 
session, which would be heart-rending. As all 
Ser. Jacopo’s sons, and the child of my sister 
Mariana, were baptised in the Roman Church, 
they might plead that as a claim on them. We 
have therefore been careful to watch the little 
ones, to warn them, to see to it that they do not 
wander far from our own doors, and that they 
are housed before nightfall. God keep them ; 
they are very gracious children. Joseph is doing 
well in his school up in the valleys, I hear.” 

^‘And how is the nice bambino Sandro ? ” 
asked Monna Marie. 

Hardly a bambino at nineteen,” said Nanni, 
smiling. “He is a noble youth, is Sandro: 
honest, cheery, busy, godly. He does half the 


296 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

work of the shop, and is moreover a great help 
to us in the church and school. The boy has a 
notably fine voice, and he teaches the young 
people to sing well the psalms and hymns, and 
he leads our singing in service.” 

‘‘God give him grace to witness a good con- 
fession,” said the old man, shaking his head 
mournfully. 

“ God does so give him grace : he witnesses 
for Jesus each day of his life, following the foot- 
steps of his master,” said Nanni. 

“ I meant such confession as the martyrs wit- 
nessed,” said the old man. 

Monna Marie began to weep. Nanni replied : 

“He who gives grace for each day’s living 
will also give grace for dying ; and if God calls 
his servants to him through any peculiarly bitter 
death, he gives them abounding grace to meet 
that demand. Has he not said, ‘ My grace is 
sufficient for thee ? ’ ” 

With the next morning Nanni v/as up early 
to be on his way; at the first railroad station he 
intended to pursue his journey by cars. The 
patriarch was anxious that he should remain 
with him for a day or two to visit some families 
scattered among the hills. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST 


297 


I cannot,” said Nanni ; I have been absent 
from my work over a fortnight. Besides, my 
father was very feeble when I left home; nor 
was my wife well. I am told that a colporteur 
is coming from Florence to visit this district 
within a few weeks ; you will see him, and take 
him to these families; meanwhile this is the 
work the Lord has laid upon you in your old 
age ; to teach and comfort this scattered flock.” 

“ May the blessed Ser. Jesus go .with you, my 
son,” said the aged man, taking Nanni’s hand 
and looking wistfully at him. “ I cannot tell if I 
shall see your face again — this side the city that 
hath foundations.” 

As for Monna Marie, she folded the young 
Evangelist in a motherly embrace, weeping as 
if she parted from him beside a grave. The 
shade cast on his spirits by this melancholy fare- 
well soon passed from Nanni’s mind. He was 
naturally of a hopeful, courageous temper, and 
he had a strong trust in God, an assurance that 
however he led his people it would ever be in a 
right way. 

Aside from the old man’s forebodings, and 
the thought of his father’s failing strength^ 


298 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Nanni had but little to make him sad. He had 
this year been finally stationed at Barletta, to 
spend all his time there in taking charge of the 
church and school. This church now numbered 
thirty-five members, and there were thirty chil- 
dren in the school. Nanni and Assunta lived in 
the house with his sister Mariana Sandro ; and 
another of Sen Jacopo’s numerous boys occu- 
pying an upper room. These families abode in 
the greatest harmon}^ together ; they labored in- 
dustriously each day, and had usually enough for 
their simple wants. As Nanni looked forward 
to reaching this happy home after his two weeks’ 
absence at Florence his heart bounded with joy, 
and he fervently thanked the God who had so 
greatly blessed him. 

And yet we must not suppose that Nanni had 
met with no opposition in his field of labor, that 
the little church had had only sunshine in its 
course; it had grown by the storm as well as by 
the sun. Thirty-five converts to Evangelism in 
one town were never made without stirring the 
wrath of Rome. A Vaudois church, its school, 
its settled pastor, its regular gatherings, had not 
failed to excite deepest enmity. The Evangel- 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


299 


ists, on their part, had been very wary; they had 
never boasted, made no public demonstration, 
pursued their way with the utmost quietness. 
A middle-aged couple with two children, neigh- 
bors of Ser. Conti, having joined the Evangel- 
icals, the upper room of their house was used 
on Sabbath as a church, on week-days as a 
school-room. Each pupil provided his own 
chair ; a few planed boards were procured, and 
these, stretched between chairs, furnished seats 
sufficient for Sunday services. During the week 
these same boards, lifted on tressels, were desks 
for the children. Nanni had painted on the wall 
several texts, and a square for a blackboard for 
his pupils. During service the windows were 
kept shut, and the singing and preaching were 
in a low key. The Vaudois establishment at 
Florence had given this church some Bibles, 
school books, and psalm books ; the people paid 
for the schooling of their children a very small 
sum weekly, and gave Nanni, their pastor, what 
they could in money or food ; beyond this they 
received a small sum from the churches in the 
valleys. Yet in spite of all this quiet and hu- 
mility the Evangelicals were a marked people. 


300 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

So much petty persecution did they suffer from 
their Romish neighbors that they by degrees 
left their former abodes and collected in the 
street which held their church and pastor. This 
became known as the “ Evangelical quarter.” 

Anxiety for the safety of their young children, 
who might be spirited away, was a main reason 
for this massing of the Evangelical forces. It 
had at first been difficult to get house-room, for 
as soon as a man joined the Vaudois he was 
ejected by his landlord, and found other owners 
of property unwilling to receive him whom The 
Church had cursed. Providentially the owner 
of three or four humble tenements near Ser. 
Jacopo’s abode became a convert, and his houses 
were rented to his brethren. Care of the prop- 
erty, regular pay and high prices combined to 
induce two or three Romanist landlords, less* 
hostile than many of their townspeople, to let 
dwellings to the outcast Vaudois. 

But when thus. housed near together and about 
their church, the troubles of this congregation 
were not ended. The men who had had regular 
employment were dismissed as heretics by their 
masters, and could only get chance work. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. ' 301 

Hardly any one but poor Evangelicals patron- 
ized the shop of Ser. Jacopo; the Barletta people 
had rather buy poor leather and work than 
trade with a “turn-coat.” So the Vaudois 
who had been a tailor lost his custom; and 
the green-grocer had only his poverty-struck 
brothers to deal at his shop; and the facchino^ 
or coal-seller, lost half his customers. These 
people had always been poor ; hardly one of 
them had had savings, and now that their daily 
gains were diminished, they were sorely pressed 
for even the very necessaries of life. 

And what was true at Barletta in 1865 is true 
to-day of the “Evangelicals” — the converts 
from Romanism — in very many Italian towns. 
These people who gathered each Sabbath to 
hear the truth from the lips of Nanni Gonti had 
literally left all to follow Christ. Their relatives 
and friends who were Romanists, abandoned 
them ; they were cursed and sometimes pelted 
in the streets ; they were poorly fed, clad and 
warmed, and there was little prospect of their 
circumstances soon improving. 

Still they were resolute ; not one looked back 
from the plow; they were a united and faithful 
26 


302 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

band> and so exemplary in their daily conduct, 
such orderly citizens, and so graciously forgiv- 
ing of injuries, that they were already beginning 
to live down the opposition of their fellow- 
citizens, and Nanni Conti hoped the day might 
come when Evangelicals could rent homes, 
obtain work, sell their wares, and go in and out 
in peace as well as any of their neighbors. 

When, in this October, Nanni had reached 
Barletta, and was hurrying to his home in the 
Evangelical quarter,” he was suddenly stopped 
by the Capuchin friar, Benedetto, who had never 
before spoken directly to him. 

‘‘ Tell me, villain heretic,” said the friar, “ is it 
true that Joseph, the second son of Ser. Jacopo 
the calzolajo^ has gone up into Piedmont to 
learn to be a Vaudois priest ? ” 

It is true,” said Nanni, briefly and quietly. 

The Capuchin planted himself with his back . 
against a sunny wall, and, clenching his fists, 
poured forth such a horrible stream of blas- 
phemy and malediction that Nanni hurried 
along at the top of his speed to get out of hear- 
ing of it. The pain which filled his heart at this 
man’s hatred and wickedness, reviving as it did 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


303 


the warnings of his aged friend among the hills, 
shadowed Nanni’s face when he entered his 
home and received the warm greetings of his 
wife and sister. He then went into the next 
house to see Ser. Jacopo’s family and his old 
parents. His father was evidently failing fast ; 
but the old man’s eye was bright and his hope 
firm ; that anchor which had been the stay of his 
last days on earth held now that he was enter- 
ing the swellings of Jordan. 

Returning to his own house, Nanni told As- 
sunta that he had a small parcel sent her by 
Miss Maxwell. Assunta opened it eagerly, and 
found some pretty garments and an envelope. 
In this letter, to her unbounded astonishment, 
she found not only a friendly letter, but one 
hundred francs. Honor Maxwell had guessed 
the poverty which surrounded the little strug- 
gling church at Barletta, and she knew Assunta 
would find ample use for her gift. She, how- 
ever, strictly charged her to keep enough of the 
money for her own need, and Nanni insisted 
that this should be so. 

“ It is such a sum ! ” cried Assunta. “ Well, 
Nanni, thirty francs will be all I can use ; and I 


304 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

will give Monna Lisa twenty; she has many 
cares now, with our feeble parents. Then, you 
know, the rent of our church must be paid, or 
the poor Banchetti will be in a desperate state, 
they are so badly off now. And what a comfort 
it will be to pay the rent at once, without feeling 
that our poor neighbors are really going without 
bread to raise the money.” 

“Yes,” said Nanni, “we will pay the rent 
immediately.” 

“Then there are two or three sick ones — 
we must give them a little help; and a franc 
or two each to the other mothers who are in 
great need. We will divide it as well as we can, 
Nanni. I am sure it comes from God, just when 
we need it most.” 

Indeed this small sum of an hundred francs 
shed light and comfort over all the church at 
Barletta. 

As the year closed Nanni found more fruit 
of his labors — an old man, his wife, and an un- 
married daughter joined the Evangelical Church, 
in the face of much opposition and in the pros- 
pect of entering into the deepest poverty on ac- 
count of their religion. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 305 

As the last day of 1 865 faded to its close, two 
angels came to the home of the Contis — the 
Angels of Life and Death. These visitants 
parted on the thresholds of the Vaudois homes. 
The Angel of Life entered Nanni’s door, and the 
Evangelist welcomed his first-born — a daughter. 
The Angel of Death paused in the upper room 
of Ser. Jacopo’s dwelling, and, standing by the 
bedside of the aged Ser. Conti, spoke in his ear: 

“ I am come to tell thee that thy Master hath 
need of, thee.” 

The old man turned to his children, saying: 

“ How wonderful it is that I go now joyfully 
into the presence of God, when for nearly all my 
life long I had no hope for good things after 
death, when I knew not that Christ could take 
the sting of death away. In my very old age 
the Jesus to whose glory I had all my life been 
blind, opened my eyes to see his mercy, and now 
I go to be in his presence forever.” He then 
gave each of his children and grandchildren his 
blessing, sent also a blessing to Assunta and the 
little one next door, said to his wife, We part 
but for a very short time,” and so /‘fell on 

sleep.” 

26 * 


u 


806 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

' During these years from i860 a burial-ground 
had been opened by the city of Barletta a little 
distance from the town, and all the citizens were 
taxed for its purchase and support. There had 
been no deaths among the Vaudois until, this 
pf Sen Conti, and now came the question 
whether the Evangelicals, whose undoubted 
right to pay cemetery taxes was recognized, 
would be granted a right to bury their dead in 
a spot which they helped maintain. The priests 
in charge of the cemetery warned Sen Jacopo 
that his father could not be buried in the 
graveyard. 

“ What must I do with my dead ? ” asked the 
calzolajo. 

Pitch him into the sea, if you choose,” said 
the priest. 

Sen Jacopo and Nanni now went to the Pre- 
fect and asked if they had not a right to use the 
Communal Cemetery. The Prefect admitted 
this right. He was a stranger, almost, in the 
town ; a man of liberal views, who had secretly 
admired the decency and diligence of the little 
Protestant community. Armed with his au- 
thority Sen Jacopo and his neighbors put old 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


307 


Ser. Conti’s body in a coffin, laid it on a bier, 
covered it with a large black shawl — for they 
were too poor to buy other drapery, and the 
Romish undertaker would have nothing to do 
with them — and so set out, Nanni walking before 
his father’s corpse and the little grandchildren 
trooping after, to give their dead Christian 
burial. 

About half way to the cemetery they were 
overtaken by a messenger from the municipality. 
The right, said the messenger, of the Evangel- 
icals to bury in communal ground was unques- 
tioned by the Prefect, but the priestly party had 
collected their adherents, and were now prepared 
to defend the burial-place from what they called 
sacrilege. The Prefect did not feel strong 
enough to combat this party. The Evangelicals, 
as the weaker side, must yield; therefore he 
forbade them to go into the cemetery, but com- 
manded them to make Ser. Conti’s grave in a 
waste piece of land under the north wall of the 
communal ground, which land the Prefect gave 
his word to have immediately enclosed and 
prepared as a burial-spot for Evangelicals. 

Greatly grieved, the band of mourners obeyed 


308 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

this order. They stood about the bier while 
some of their number dug a grave. During 
this time Nanni preached comforting words to 
his few hearers. While the simple burial ser- 
vice was going on, the party who guarded the 
cemetery yelled, hooted, and threw stones. 
When Sandro pressed a bit of board into 
the head and foot of the mound thrown up over 
his grandfather’s body, and the Evangelicals 
turned to go home, the voice of the Capuchin 
friar Benedetto rose high from the opposing 
mob : 

We’ll save you burying any more!” 

That night the acre in which Ser. Conti was 
buried was plowed and re-plowed with two yoke 
of oxen. 

Notwithstanding these persecutions, the next 
Sabbath, two brothers named Monti joined the 
Evangelical Church, bringing their number up 
to forty. 

On Monday morning — the first Monday in 
1866 — Friar Benedetto, set off for Rome, and 
was not again seen in Barletta for some time. 

After the disturbance about her husband’s 
burial old Monna Conti took to her bed, which 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 309 

she never again left, but lay there slowly dying 
of sorrow, privation, and old age. Her children 
nursed her wdth the tenderest love, and each day 
as the old woman drew nearer her end her faith 
brightened, and her appreciation of spiritual 
truths became more and more clear. 

Quietly pursuing their own work; kind, as 
they had opportunity, to all around them; train- 
ing diligently their children, and bearing bravely 
their extreme poverty, the church at Barletta 
pursued its way during the remainder of the 
winter. Nanni’s child was baptized according to 
the Vaudois rite, in February. 

The Fari family, who had been among the 
first hearers of the Evangel in Barletta, still 
kept aloof from public * meetings, or from any 
open expression of sympathy with the Pro- 
testant Church. Secretly they were very 
friendly to many of the Evangelici; Monna 
Fari was particularly fond of Assunta, and in 
private this family showed the Vaudois many 
favors. Their visits, however, were by night; 
and when Nanni would urge Ser. Fari to exam- 
ine the Scriptures, and then honestly follow the 
teachings of the Holy Book, the wily Italian 
would reply: 


310 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

'‘I don’t mind telling that I’m sure you’re 
right, for you will not betray me ; but it is not 
safe to belong to you ; poverty, loss, and maybe 
worse would befall us.” 

Carnival passed as usual in Barletta, and Lent 
came. On the first day of Lent Friar Benedetto, 
the Capuchin, reappeared, and in his company 
two priests from Rome. The three began a vis- 
itation from house to house among the Roman- 
ists, and within two days the effects of their pres- 
ence began to be seen. Several of the more 
bigoted Romanist women became loud in their 
denunciation of the “ Protestanti,” shook their 
fists as they met them on the streets, and proph- 
esied that soon Holy Church would be avenged 
of her adversaries. 

The two foremost priests of Barletta also on 
Sabbath preached against the “ heretici,” strictly 
prohibiting their people from having any dealings 
with them, from speaking to them, showing or 
receiving kindness, or in any way countenancing 
an abominable schism against the Holy See. 

The Evangelicals hearing the mutterings of 
this storm, resolved to weather it, as they had 
many storms before, by patience and humility. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 311 

They remained as much as possible within 
doors, kept their children off the streets, did not 
appear at their windows, and in every way tried 
to banish themselves from the angry eyes of 
their enemies. It was announced that the two 
priests from Rome were Padre Postiglione and 
Padre Trentadue,* who had come from the Holy 
Father to preach a Novena during the first part 
of Lent, for the express purpose of “ putting 
down Protestantism,” While visitation prepara- 
tory to this Novena was in progress Nanni re- 
ceived a letter from a village at a little distance 
to the north, a few miles inland from the Adri- 
atic coast. The people of this village stated 
that they had no priest: that they were deeply 
anxious to hear the Evangel as it was preached 
at Barletta, and begging him to come to them 
for at least a fortnight, that they might hear 
something comforting about Ser. Jesus.” This 
letter was so sincere and pathetic, it gave such a 
picture of a people hungering for the bread of 
life, that Nanni was fain to go. He laid the 
matter before several members of his congrega- 
tion, and they advised him to go, accompanied 


* We give the real names of these two. 


312 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

by one of the two Monti brothers, the last addi- 
tions to the Barletta church. 

The commotion was so increasing in Barletta 
that it was suggested that a two-weeks closing 
of church and school might be advisable ; some 
of the parents feared their children might be 
mobbed or stolen on their way to their lessons. 
While Nanni was absent, the children could be 
kept in their homes, and prayer-meetings could 
be conducted from house to house. By the time 
Nanni returned, the priests from Rome would 
have concluded their mission, the townspeople 
would have returned to tranquillity, and public 
services could be safely resumed. 

Yielding to these counsels, and to a great 
desire to preach the Gospel to these strangers 
who seemed prepared by God to receive it 
gladly, Nanni and young Monti bade their 
friends farewell, and, having been earnestly com- 
mended to God’s keeping, left Barletta on their 
mission. 

Going out of the city Nanni met himself 
coming in. A wraith ! a wraith ! say some. No, 
not a wraith, but the new Sub-Prefect of Barletta, 
who bore so close a likeness to Nanni that they 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 313 

might have been twin brothers. They each 
recognized this resemblance, and laughed as 
they passed on their way. 

Who was that ? ” asked the Sub-Prefect of a 
politzia lounging near, pointing after Nanni as 
he spoke. 

The politzia shrugged his shoulders, 
heretic priest.” 

Ho, indeed ! Davvero! I can take his place 
and nobody know ! ” 

Was the Sub-Prefect also among the pro- 
phets ? 

“ You’d be far safer in your own place, sicora^ 
illustrissirno ! said the politzia^ with another 
shrug. 

The Novena had now fairly begun. Padres 
Postiglione and Trentadue preached with a 
frantic energy which drew crowds into the 
churches. They proclaimed that they had un- 
limited indulgences and heaven set open for all 
who heard and heeded them ; that the Admirable 
Mother herself had sent them to her beloved 
town of Barletta, once so pious, now led away 
by heretics, who were reopening the seven 
wounds in her sacred heart, and trebly multiply- 
27 


314 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

ing the swords that pierced her immaculate 
bosom. Mary had never been so cruelly de- 
spised, rejected and maltreated as now at Bar- 
letta, and she mourned in heaven, seated in 
glory by her Son, over the defection of Barletta ; 
her woe had cast a shade over the celestial 
courts, and stilled to sighs the angelic chorus.* 

Thus they set forth the deplorable evil, and 
sorrow of heresy. It remained, then, to suggest 
the remedy. They recalled the history and old 
authority of the church, and her mighty vindi- 
cation of her power in days gone by. The 
knife and the cautery were for virulent ulcers. 
The Evangelici'^cro. society’s ulcers — where Vas 
the knife and the fire to destroy them ? Who 
discovered gunpowder ? a holy friar. And why 
did the saints permit him to make this amazing 
discovery ? because gunpowder was ordained as 
another remedy against heresy; guns and cannon 
were part of the church’s arming against an evil 
world. 

“ Pave your way to heaven with the bodies of 
Mary’s foes ! ” cried Padre Postiglione. 

*We give the substance of these harangues, as taken from 
the Tuscan papers of that date. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 815 

Thunder at the eternal gate with the guns 
which cut off the rebels against the church ! ” 
shouted Padre Trentadue. 

By such fierce exhortations these two men 
stirred the maddest passions of the superstitious, 
hasty, unlettered citizens of Barletta. On the 
second day preceding St. Joseph’s Day the “ser- 
mons ” were answered by loud cries, “ Viva il 
Papa! ” “ Death to heretics ! ” “ Viva Madonna! ” 

All the city was in a ferment. News of the 
excitement reached the Prefect, who was, like 
all other Italian men of any education, “too 
busy ” to attend parish church. He sent word 
to the Padres that he desired them to moderate 
their tone and not excite the populace too much 
even on holy themes ; the municipality desired 
quiet, and only so much religion as was con- 
sistent with quiet. He also notified the politzia 
that if any tumult threatened they must keep 
the peace. The police at once made their 
arrangements to look very closely after the 
suburbs, where no further tumult than that 
occasioned by children, goats and cats was to be 
expected. 

In the darkness of the second day before St. 


316 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Joseph’s, Sen Fari found his way to the house 
of Sen Jacopo. The calzolajo^ his wife and seven 
sons, Mariana and her daughter, and Assunta 
and her babe, were gathered in the shop of Sen 
Jacopo, which was also the usual evening sitting- 
room of the family. 

I have come to warn you to be careful,” 
said Sen Fari. ** There was terrible preaching 
against you at the duomo to-day. I wish you 
were all out of town. Cannot you go away ? ” • 

How could we ? We have neither money, 
friends, nor place of refuge,” replied Sen Jacopo. 
‘‘Besides, the old mother is quite bedridden. 
We have no place but this; we must abide 
here.” 

“ I shall not go to the duomo to-morrow, or 
the next day,” said Sen Fari. “ My family and 
I will keep St. Joseph’s Day at home. But I am 
greatly troubled for you. I don’t know what 
the people mean. They may mean nothing but 
to relieve their minds by violent words ; but they 
have desperate men to head them, and they 
might do anything. Keep within doors.” 

After Sen Fari was gone, the Vaudois family 
sat in silence for a long time, pondering what 


LEAVING ALL FOE CHRIST. 


317 


measures against them their infuriated neigh- 
bors would be likely to J:ake. At last Assunta 
said : 

I feel sure what they will do : they will steal 
our children, to make them go back to the old 
faith. They always have stolen Vaudois chil- 
dren. Oh! worse than death, to think of our 
daughters trained up for nuns, our sons made 
friars ; to think that they shall be taught to hate 
their parents’ faith and persecute their parents’ 
church 1 ” 

At these words Mariana clasped her daughter . 
to her breast and burst into loud weeping. 
Monna Lisa caught up her youngest son, now 
entering on his seventh year, and kissed him 
passionately, exclaiming : 

“ Oh I mi bambino I mi bambino ! ” 

Ser. Jacopo looked on the sorrowful scene as 
overwhelmed with grief as any of them. Then 
he rose, and, extending his hands, said : 

“ ‘ Our help is in the name of the Lord, who 
made heaven and earth.’ We will ‘ trust in the 
Lord forever: for in the Lord Jehovah is ever- 
lasting strength.’ Beloved, beneath are the ' ever- 
lasting arms;’ let us fall upon them, and they 

27 * 


818 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

can lift us into perfect safety, even unto heaven 
itself. Let us pray.” « 

Then, as that group of terrified and helpless 
ones fell on their knees, Ser. Jacopo began to 
pray as he was taught of God. All the fears of 
these people centered in the children of their 
families, and for these the pious calzolajo made 
intercession. Having ended his prayer, he stood 
for some while in a reverie, his head bent on his* 
breast ; then he looked up cheerfully and said : 

“ I believe I have gotten an answer from God ; 
this verse is impressed on my mind : ‘ I will save 
thy children.’ Amici! let us take this in humble 
faith, rest on it as God’s pledge to us, and I 
doubt not he will be as good as his word.” 

“ Well,” said Monna Lisa, after a few moments’ 
time, in which their horizon seemed to have 
cleared a little, “ God saves by means ; and the 
way he often answers prayer is to teach his 
people what means to use. Don’t you say so, 
Assunta ? That is the way it was in the Bible 
stories. And now I have put in my mind a 
place where we can speedily hide our children, 
if it seems needful. You know there is a deep 
black recess in our cellar behind the great arch. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


319 


No one knows of that place, and it is not easy 
to find. I propose to go at once with some of 
the boys, show them the way there, and prepare 
the place for them if they must be hidden. We 
could put there some candles and a little food, 
and they could fly there on the first necessity 
of escape. I have not been there since I was a 
child, and no one knows of the place.” 

“ Oh, Lisa, that is a good thought,” said her 
sister Mariana. 

It may be, indeed,” said Sen Jacopo. “At 
least Lisa, Sandro and I, and Forano, will go 
down with you and see this place.” 

Monna Lisa took an oil lamp and a broom, 
and, followed by her husband, started down the 
damp and mouldy stone staircase of the cellar ; 
looking back, she said : 

“ Step lightly over this rubbish cast here, that 
it may not seem to have been disturbed.” 

They heeded this wise injunction, and Lisa 
led them across the chill cellar. Spiders, rats, 
lizards, cobwebs, mould, held riot there. She 
stooped, and, crowding behind the arch, stood 
upright in a recess some seven feet high, nine 
long and four wide.* The floor was earth, and 
the walls were of stone, brick and cement. 


320 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Terrible place/’ said Forano,^ shuddering. 

“We could never be found here, at least,” 
said Sandro. 

“ It may be God’s refuge for you, my poor 
sons,” said Lisa, weeping. 

“ We can prepare it,” said Sen Jacopo ; “ but 
I pray we may not need it.” 

“ I shall at once sweep these walls and the 
floor thoroughly to get off the mould and ver- 
min. You, Sandro, may go and bring a pot of 
burning brachey a couple of fumes, and a faschicy 
and we will light them on the floor to burn up 
any poison air. Bring also a little wooden box, 
that is in the shop corner, and two candles.” 

Sandro departed on his errand, Ser. Jacopo 
held the light, and Monna Lisa began her 
sweeping. When she had cleansed the place 
of about half a bushel of mould, cobwebs and 
damp earth, Sandro returned with his fuel. The 
fumes are round, chocolate-colored cakes, an 
inch thick, and about three inches in diameter. 
They are made of the small roots and refuse 
about olive trees, ground and prepared with 
sawdust, and pressed together. They are used 
rather to keep fire than to burn readily. Having 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


321 


set the box containing the candles on a great 
block of stone across the farther end of the 
recess, Sandro poured out the burning brache^ 
broke the fumes and laid them upon it, and scat- 
tered the twigs of the fascina over all. The twigs 
broke into a blaze, revealing the walls of the 
little prison. 

Forano carried the sweepings to a distant 
corner of the cellar, and Lisa said : 

“ We will now put here some provisions — a 
flask of oil and a flask of wine, and on the 
stairway I will keep constantly a large loaf 
which could be brought here at any minute; 
also a candle, a candlestick and a box of 
matches. We will also fold the big sheepskin, 
and leave it in the stairway to be brought down. 
Remember, my boys, if you are obliged to fly 
here, you will take with you the sheepskin and 
the loaf, make no breath of noise, and do not 
light your candles oftener than is really needful. 
It may be a number of hours before your father 
and I would dare come to you ; but in no case 
come out till we have called for you.” 

“Of course,” said Sandro, “as I am grown 
up, I am in no more danger than you and father, 


322 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and I would stay with you ; but Forano had 
better come down to care for the little ones, and 
Bepina can take care of Aunt Assunta’s baby.” 

Bepina was Widow Mariana’s child, ten years 
of age. Monna Lisa having made her prepara- 
tions her mind was somewhat relieved thereby, 
and the family retired, but for a wakeful and 
anxious night. 

The next day was remarkably bright and 
warm. The golden sunshine seemed to rebuke 
fears. 

The Protestants kept within doors, listening 
for every sound ; but no ill befell them. At the 
Cathedral the Roman priests, disregarding the 
request of the Prefect, preached more furiously 
than ever. This was the eve of St. Joseph’s 
Day, and the third anniversary of Assunta’s 
marriage. 

On the morning of this day Ser. Jacopo and 
Sandro, accompanied by Ser. Banchetti, in whose 
upper room the services were held, went to the 
Prefect, resolved to state to him their fears and 
ask if the Evangelists were in any danger ; also 
to entreat his good offices. The Prefect and 
Sub-Prefect received them kindly, but laughed 


LEAVING ALL FOE CHRIST. 


323 


at their fears. The Prefect declared he could 
keep t)rder, if the Va'udois were discreet and did 
not provoke attack; Italians would not injure 
Italians ; a few black looks, hard words, and a 
severe letting alone was the worst they need 
expect. 

“And you are such orderly citizens, such kind 
neighbors, that that will wear off after a time,’* 
said the Prefect. 

“Your priest might be mobbed if he were 
here and showed himself on the street,” said the 
Sub-Prefect. “He was wise to go away; it may 
have saved him a black eye and some rotten 
eggs. But do you all pursue your work and 
say nothing; the Novena will end to-morrow; 
the strange priests will depart ; Barletta will take 
the sober second thought, and all will be well.” 

“ We fear most for our children. Sen Prefect, 
lest they be stolen from us and we are not able 
to recover them,” pid Sen Jacopo. 

“ Never fear ; no one wants your children. 
The world is full of children, and they are only 
valuable to their own parents.” 

“ But we remember young Montara, and 
others,” said Sandro. 


324 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

"‘Tutt, tutt. If anyone takes one of your 
children I promise you I’ll see to havmg it 
brought back. You are not Jews, like the 
Montara, but Italians — sicoraf” 

St. Joseph’s Day dawned in matchless beauty. 
The Papists crowded to the Cathedral ; the stall 
keepers made fritaia^ the legitimate dainty of the 
occasion, at every corner. The Prefect had re- 
assured the hearts of the Evangelici ; they were 
confident in their own good intentions and in 
the magistrate’s promised protection. 

The house of Ser. Jacopo stood on the Via 
degli Angeli, and faced a street running into this 
called the Via Maria. The Via degli Angeli 
ended, a few rods from Ser. Jacopo’s house, in a 
small public square, paved with stone, having an 
iron flagstaff in the centre, surmounted by an 
iron Virgin. This square was called the Piazza 
della Virgine. 

The fears of the Evangelici had so subsided 
that in their own houses they pursued their cus- 
tomary avocations, taking care to keep their 
younger children within doors. 

While the services were proceeding in the Ca- 
thedral the streets were quiet, and Sandro seized 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


325 


the opportunity to go to a butcher’s stall for a 
bone to make broth for his grandmother, who 
was unusually feeble ; while Assunta ventured 
to go and visit a member of the church, who 
was lying very ill in a house at the extremity 
of the Via degli Angeli. None of the dying 
one’s family could read, and so Assunta hid her 
Testament in her bosom, took her babe in her 
arms, and went for a few moments to read to 
and pray with the sufferer. 

But already, at the duomo^ the priests had 
inflamed the multitude to madness, crying to 
them to do deeds worthy of St. Joseph and his 
day, to avenge the blessed Madonna, to defend 
the cause of Holy Church and win heaven for 
themselves. 

“ Fire and sword ; cudgels, stones, fire ought 
to be the meed of heretics. Shame on you 
cowards, renegades, heretics ! you are all Evan- 
gelid!'' bellowed Padre Postiglione, leaning 
from his pulpit, purple with fury. 

“Let us go to rescue Mary!” yelled Padre 
Trentadue, snatching up a crozier. 

“ Let us purge our city! ” shouted the senior 

priest of the duomo. 

28 . 


826 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

The frenzied multitude started up with loud 
cries, and, headed by four priests (two of Barletta 
and two of Rome), Benedetto the friar, and a 
number of women, rushed into the streets howl- 
ing for blood. The duomo was far from the 
Protestant quarter and near the Prefecture. The 
Prefect, in dismay, gathered a few policemen and 
ordered them out, while the Sub-Prefect ran to 
bring more. The first fury of the rioters, there- 
fore, turned on the officers of the municipality, 
whom the stranger priests denounced as for- 
eigners and heretics. The mob fell on the police 
and killed one of them ; the others fled, and the 
crowd burst open the gates of the Prefecture, 
and in fifteen minutes had completely sacked it. 
The Prefect hid in a tool-house in his garden 
and so escaped. 

The insurgents now darted about the streets 
looking for Protestants, and in the chief Corso 
found Ser. Bianchetti, who leased the room for 
the church ; him they dispatched with cudgels, 
and, dragging his dead body with them, started 
to go to the Protestant quarter and slay every 
man there. As they pressed on, mad with rage, 
to put this threat into execution, they en- 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


327 


countered the new Sub-Prefect running to the 
Prefecture a little in advance of some half-dozen 
police whom he had rallied. Mistaking him for 
Nanni Conti, the mob roared “ Down with the 
Vaudois priest ! ” and falling upon him with 
clubs, fists and knives had nearly murdered him, 
when the police whom he had summoned formed 
a square, charged into the throng, and carried 
the insensible Sub-Prefect off the field of battle. 

But the news of the murder of Ser. Banchetti 
flew before the rioters, who had now full pos- 
session of the city. The Sub-Prefect was laid, 
almost dying, in the dismantled Prefecture. The 
Prefect had no police to aid him, and one of the 
municipal officers mounted a fleet horse to ride 
to the nearest telegraph station and send for 
troops ; also to beg the next town for police- 
men. 

Now the word of Banchetti’s death reached 
the Via degli Angeli ; his wife, followed by her 
two children, dashed into the street, shrieking 
for her husband. Mariana, the widow, fled into 
Ser. Jacopo’s with Bettina, crying : 

“Fly! fly! we shall all be murdered! Ban- 
chetti is dead, and they come for us ! ” 


328 THE OATH- KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“ Send the children to the cellar,” cried Monna 
Lisa. 

Let us save our poor mother,” cried Sen 
Jacopo, darting up-stairs. Monna Lisa followed 
him, to rescue the bed-ridden parent, and Mari- 
ana drove the six younger sons of Sen Jacopo 
and her own Bepina into the cellar, thrusting 
into their hands the bread, the candlestick, and 
the sheepskin. 

Silence — haste ! ” said Mariana. 

Forano went first, with great speed, and Mar- 
chese, carrying his youngest brother, brought 
up the rear. Mariana was about to follow them 
when she thought of Assunta and her babe. 
The courageous woman resolved to go into the 
street to seek for her nephew Sandro and her 
sister-in-law. She closed the door of safety 
against herself and turned to the threshold. 

Meanwhile Ser. Jacopo had wrapped a blanket. 
about the old mother and taken her by the 
shoulders, Avhile Lisa seized her feet, to carry 
her to the cellar. As they started Ser. Jacopo 
heard a cry that rent his soul — the voice of his 
first-born, in mortal agony. He thrust his head 
from the window. The mob were coming up 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 329 

the Via Maria roaring like wild beasts, and the 
advance had seized Sandro, who was flying 
home to warn his parents. The lad was in the 
hands of several foes, who were attacking him 
with long knives, and already the blood flowed 
over his garments. 

“ Carry down the mother — I go to save my 
son ! ” cried Ser. Jacopo, throwing the old 
woman into Lisa’s arms and leaping down the 
stairs. 

Did he save his son ? Already the young 
martyr had reached the bosom of his God ; and 
as Ser. Jacopo strove to clasp his boy in his 
arms, the knives, red with Sandro’s blood, 
sought his father’s heart. 

Monna Banchetti, crying after her husband, 
was killed by a blow with a cudgel. 

The murderers of Sandro were outdone by 
their nearest successors, who dashed into the 
shop of the caholajo, caught the old dame from 
her daughter’s arms, as she reached the foot of 
the stairs, and flung the helpless creature far 
into the street over the heads of the mob. Lisa, 
with a wild cry, darted back up the stairs, but a 
ruffian was after her, caught her by the hair, 
28 * 


830 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A HO. 

fired a bullet through her head, and cast her 
corpse out of the window. 

Every house of the Evangelicals was sacked ; 
and then, led by the priests, the maddened 
rioters dragged their victims, dead, dying and 
living, to the Piazza della Virgine, 

Burn them ! Burn them ! ” was the cry. 

Meanwhile another tragedy was being en- 
acted. Before the destroyers reached Via degli 
Angeli, Assunta left her sick friend and set out 
for home. She hastened her steps, hearing 
terrible noises, and had almost reached Ser. 
Jacopo’s house when, as she crossed a narrow 
street, an offshoot from the main mob, number- 
ing about a dozen men and women, came upon 
her from behind, just as the great body of the 
murderers entered Via degli Angeli by way of 
Via Maria. 

“Kill the Vaudois priest’s harlot!” cried a 
woman. 

Assunta set out to run, but a man plunged a 
stiletto between her shoulders, and she fell for- 
ward on the curbstone without a cry. Her 
enemies pushed on over her prostrate form, 
hastening to join the mob; but Assunta was not 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 331 

unseen. A son of Ser. Fari had gone that day 
to fetch one of those loads of brush, dead vines, 
weeds, leaves and withered branches used by 
Italian bakers in heating their ovens. He was 
driving homeward on a street parallel with Via 
degli Angeli, when, as he passed a crossing, he 
saw Assunta fall, murdered, at the crossing, a 
few paces below. He was a strong lad of 
twenty. He darted from his cart, ran and 
dragged the breathless woman from the pave- 
ment, flung her on his load of brush, covered 
her with his cloak, and set forward toward his 
father’s dwelling at a rapid pace. The neigh- 
borhood of Ser. Fari’s house seemed quite 
deserted. Young Fari drove into the empty 
court, and then, going to the kitchen door, saw 
his mother, father and sister sitting as in dread 
and expectation. . 

Mother! ” he cried. 

chCy son,” said his father in a low voice. 

Silence I We fear greatly this is an evil day.” 
“ Mother, I have Assunta Conti and her babe, 
dead or dying, in my cart ! ” 

The Faris rose with a groan. Ser. Fari and 
his wife went out, lifted the body of Assunta, 


332 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

who yet clasped her babe -firmly to her breast, 
and carried her to an upper room. There was 
an ominous red stain on the load of brush. 
Laying their charge on a bed, Monna Fari un- 
clasped Assunta’s arms from the little one. 
The child was dead, its head had been crushed 
on the curbstone. The Fari daughter received 
with many tears the limp little form. The babe 
smiled as in a tranquil sleep. 

‘‘She lives,” said Monna Fari, feeling As- 
sunta’s heart. 

“She will die,” said Ser. Fari; and he shed a 
tear. 

The two then set themselves to doing all in 
their power for the poor victim. In darkness 
and silence they made her bed neat, undressed 
her, bound up the wound in oil, gave her restor- 
atives, bathed her white face. She made no 
sign of consciousness, breathed feebly, and that 
was all. Each soft, tremulous breath seemed 
likely to be her last. On a shelf in the corner 
the little babe was laid, covered with a white 
towel, its hands folded, and the head turned 
on one side to hide the wound of which it 
perished. 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 333 

We turn again to the Piazza della Virgine. 
The mob bound young Monti, wounded but 
living, to the iron staff in the centre ; there, too, 
they fastened Sen Jacopo, who breathed, and 
dead Sen Banchetti, and his dead wife; old 
Monna Conti’s corpse, and Lisa’s were fastened 
here also ; Sandro, dead ; widow Mariana, 
wounded with knives and insensible, and one 
other of the Evangelicals dead, and one wounded 
but conscious. Around these ten, dead and liv- 
ing, they piled the clothes, and furniture, and 
oil from the houses which they had gutted, and 
added all the books and seats from the chapel. 
This was the funeral pyre, the martyr fire, built 
by Rome in Barletta, beside the Adriatic, on 
St. Joseph’s Day of 1866; it was built in the 
afternoon; four priests, a friar, several women 
and children and an infuriated throng of men 
stood around as the torch was applied. The 
flames raged at once, responding to those mad 
hearts thirsting for kindred blood. The smoke 
and flames mounted high; there was a shout 
from young Monti : “ Christ ! I come.” The 
crowd heard another say: Lord, receive my 
soul,” and some thought that Ser. Jacopo 


334 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

raised his head and lifted his hand toward 
heaven. Did the murderers falter then? No, 
they were insane; they shouted and sang; 
pelted the burning martyrs with paving stones, 
and danced around that latest auto-da-fe until 
the last red gleam ceased to flash across the 
Adriatic, the last wreath of smoke curled up 
around the iron Virgin, and she again became 
invisible to her iron-hearted worshippers, the 
bodies and the household .goods had fallen to 
ashes, and not a heretic remained in the devas- 
tated Via degli Angeli. 

Then with the evening mist rising from the 
sea, rose a chill over the city of Barletta, a 
strange chill of the heart; as the night fell, a 
sudden blackness of horror, remorse, anguish, 
fell upon their spirits, which had so lately been in 
a mad delirium, determined on destruction and 
death. The mob melted away, none knew how 
— each man feared his neighbor. Via degli 
Angeli was a ruin ; the prefecture was destroyed ; 
the police had vanished; hot a bell rang for 
vespers ; the leaders and the led of that terrible 
day hid themselves. Night and pale starlight 
reigned. Certain of the dispersed Evangelicals 
returned to Via degli Angeli and searched for 


LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 


335 


any of their number who might have been left 
there, dead or wounded. They found one corpse 
— a man. They brought a bier, wrapped the 
dead one in his cloak, laid his head on a pillow, 
put a Bible in one lifeless hand, and placed the 
other with cold finger pointing to the sky, and 
so carried him to the Piazza della Virgine, and 
set the bier down on the yet warm ashes of 
his brethren’s death-fire, and left him there, 
bearing witness of violence, a martyr, dead yet 
speaking, pleading his cause between heaven 
and earth. 

So that night all Barletta, aggressors and 
aggrieved, sat down in the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. The Adriatic, which had buried in 

its bosom so many confessors of faith, felt yet 

# 

on its bright waters the flush of that auto-da-fCy 
and moaned softly in the darkness. The fair 
city that had been that day scathed and blasted 
by the lightning of man’s cruel wrath against 
his fellow-man feared the coming morning. The 
municipality was helpless, the police had taken 
flight, yet every street was silent and deserted. 
There was not one abroad, save that Vaudois on 
his bier, like a last, lifeless sentinel, keeping a 
city of the dead. 


336 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

Those in Barletta on whose garments and 
hands rested brothers’ blood were already won- 
dering if Holy Church could wash away so foul 
a stain. On the fields outside the city several 
Vaudois families were camped, destitute, and 
most of them wounded, some with limbs broken 
from being thrown out of windows. The sick 
woman with whom Assunta had that morning 
prayed had died of terror ; in an empty cabin a 
widow, whose child had been killed, had taken 
refuge, and was now sitting amid her dead and 
living children. 

Such was the night of St. Joseph’s Day in 
Barletta in 1866. Ah, well to look away from 
this desolate earth to heaven. “ But glorious it 
was to see how the upper region was filled with 
horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, 
with singers and players on stringed instruments, 
to welcome the martyrs as they weut up and 
followed one another in at the beautiful gate of 
the city.” * 

* For full particulars of the Barletta Massacre see Moore’s 
Appendix to Cassel, Fetter & Co.’s edition of “ Fox’s Book 
of Martyrs,” 1872, page 718; also Florentine papers for March 
and April, 1866. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE REMNANT. 


“ But He who overrules all things, having the power ot 


their rage in His own hand, so wrought it about, that Christian 
for that time escaped them, and went his way.” 

He news of the massacre at Barletta sped 



X over Italy. The names of the victims were 
not yet given, but word went out that many had 
died for conscience sake. The story reached 
Honor Maxwell in the Palazzo Borgosoia, and 
Joseph, son of Jacopo, in the Vaudois valley 
school, and first Nanni Conti and his comrade, 
who were preaching in the country hamlet. 

Meanwhile, on the early morning after the 
slaughter, the streets about the dismantled pre- 
fecture echoed to the tread of men marching in 
due order. Soldiers and police had come, and 
were dispersed through the city. Emboldened 

by these the Prefect gathered in the fugitives 
29 w (337 j 


338 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

who were scattered through the fields, and, 
emptying one ward of a public hospital, had the 
wounded cared for, and set two of the Evangeli- 
cals to nurse them. 

Still no hand touched that accusing corpse on 
the Piazza della Virgine. By evening four hun- 
dred soldiers were in the city, and the Prefect 
made proclamation for the Evangelicals to come 
freely forward and bury their dead. There were 
three biers to carry — the man, the woman who 
had died of terror, the murdered child, were to 
share the same funeral, and there were not Evan- 
gelicals enough unharmed to carry their dead. 

A number of the townspeople who had not 
shared in the outbreak now came, clad in mourn- 
ing, and offered their services as pall-bearers. 
At sunset a long and solemn train carried the 
three coffins out of the city, a melancholy band 
of eight protestants walking at their head. Thus 
three victims were buried. 

That night arrests began to be made, and by 
the next evening four priests, PTiar Benedetto, 
seven women, and others, to the number of 
seventy-five, were , lodged in prison as promoters 
and chief actors in the riot. 


THE REMNANT. 


339 


On this evening of the second day after the 
massacre Nanni Conti, wan, haggard, breathless, 
entered Barletta. As soon as the news of the tu- 
mult reached his out-of-the-way place of labor he 
had made all speed to return, to meet — he knew 
not what Not knowing the state of the city, and 
not daring to question any one, he pressed on to 
the Via degli Angeli. The street was deserted; 
wfndows were broken, shutters and doors torn 
from their hinges; marks of blood yet on the 
walls and pavements; every Evangelical home 
empty, destroyed ; the few Papist homes closely 
shut, for very shame, and for fear of the 
polizia. 

Around and in the home of Ser. Jacopo — re- 
garded as the prime fountain of heresy — the 
strife had raged most hotly. Nanni, stag- 
gering like one drunken, could hardly gain the 
abandoned threshold. What a picture of utter 
desolation met his eye ! Bare' and broken walls ; 
not a particle of property left therein ; stains of 
blood on the floor. A cold sweat broke over 
the agonized Evangelist; he crawled up-stairs, 
expecting perhaps to stumble over the corpse 
of one of his beloved. The upper rooms were 


340 THE OA TH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

as desolate as that below, and the great red 
stain from Monna Lisa’s death-wound told its 
horrible story. Gone — the mother who had 
blessed him, the brother and sisters who had 
loved him, the wife who had been dearer than 
all the world, the babe who had filled his cup of 
happiness to the brim. He found his way in a 
blind misery to the room below, and falling on 
his knees, cried: 

“ Oh ! my mother ! my wife ! my child ! Oh ! 
Jacopo, my brother ! ” 

“ Signore Nanni,” said a voice near him. 

It was the voice of young Fari, who had all 
day been watching for his return. Nanni 
stretched out his hand. 

Where are they ? Where are they ? ” 

“ Signore, don’t ask me. Our hearts are 
broken. We weep rivers o^yer this destruction: 
Come, Signore — ^your wife is in my mother’s 
arms. Come quickly; there is no time to 
lose.” 

Nanni struggled to his feet. 

“ My wife ! — living ? ” 

“Oh, Sen Nanni!” groaned the lad; “she 
has been dying these two days, and my mother 


THE REMNANT. 341 

says her soul cannot part in peace from her 
body until you are there. My unhappy eyes 
saw your wife murdered ! ” ^ 

A cold shock of horror restored to Nanni the 
strength of excitement. He sprang forward, 
and, grasping Fari’s arm, hurried toward the 
home that sheltered his dying wife. 

Assunta had neither moved nor shown sign 
of consciousness since she was carried into Ser. 
Fari’s. Nanni found her lying white and insen- 
sible, Signora Fari bathing her brow, fanning 
her, and forcing drops of wine between her lips, 
endeavoring to retain life. 

“ Oh, Ser. Nanni ! ” said this good Samaritan, 
** how I have tried to keep her breath until you 
could see her ! ” 

Nanni knelt by the bed and took his wife’s 
chilly hands. A perfect peace had settled on 
her thin face. The bright eyes which had 
charmed him at Ser. Jacopo’s shop door were 
closed; the roses of the mountain maid had 
fled; the voice that had filled his soul with 
music in the pavilion of the crossways was 
silent ; that ear which had hitherto heard him 
gladly, seemed deaf to his cry : 

29 * 


-342 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

“Assunta, carissima / ” 

But that agonized cry penetrated at last the 
heavy brain and called back consciousness. 
Lying at the gate of death, Assunta opened her 
eyes and softly spoke her husband’s name. The 
sight of his face, his kiss, seemed to give her 
new strength. She gently stroked his cheek, 
and then asked for her babe. No one answered. 
A shadow fell over her dying face ; a sudden 
agony rose in her eyes. 

“ Did the priest steal my child ? ” 

“ Show it to her,” sobbed Nanni. 

Monna Fari took the pillow on which lay the 
dead child and held it before the dying mother. 
Assunta gave a loving and satisfied smile. 

‘‘ God is good,” she said. “ He has not parted 
me from my child. Be of good courage, Nanni. 
Work for the Lord here — meet us there ! ” She 
spoke with many a pause; then rested for a 
time. Then she asked : 

‘‘Are our friends dead ? ” 

“ Dead ! ” wailed Monna Fari. 

Assunta summoned all her strength. 

“ Nanni, live for Ser. Jacopo’s children. They 
are — ii^the cellar: save them.” 


THE REMNANT. 


343 


Her face grew whiter; her eyelids fell: 
another martyr swelled the great accusing 
throng that pleads (how long ?) above. 

After the first hour of his lonely anguish 
Nanni recalled his wife’s last words. He ob- 
tained from Monna Fari what information she 
had about the massacre. She knew the names 
of the ten burned on the Piazza. 

‘^And where are my sister’s six sons? and 
where is Bepina ? ” asked Nanni. * 

“ Not one of them has been seen since that 
terrible morning.”, 

Nanni’s eyes now fell on two children • 
crouching in a corner. 

“Who are those?” he asked. 

“Ser. Banchetti’s children. Poor orphans. 
When their parents were murdered these two 
were mixed in the crowd and so escaped. They 
found their way to me in the afternoon of that 
day. Unhappy ones! they are not yet over 
their fright.” 

Nanni took the two children in his arms, and 
in loving tones comforted them, telling of the 
safe home into which their parents had entered, 
and in so speaking gathered some comfort him- 
self. 


344 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

Ser. Fari now brought him a cup of black 
coffee and some bread. Having by this regained 
a little strength, after a fast of twenty-four 
hours, Nanni said: 

I would like, Ser. Fari, to pray by my dead 
wife before I go out to look for my sister’s 
sons.” 

“Pray with us all, Ser. Nanni,” said Fari, who 
had grown wondrous bold since the first public 
step which cdhipassion had compelled him to 
take. 

Nanni, kneeling in that little room, with the 
four Faris and the Banchetti orphans bowed 
about him, and his wife and babe lying lifeless 
before him, poured out his soul in a prayer 
which brought him strength from heaven. He 
rose from his knees calm and brave. 

Ser. Fari now offered to go for Assunta’s 
coffin, and for permission from the Prefect to 
bury the body. 

Meanwhile Monna Fari and her daughter 
made the young mother ready for her last rest ; 
and Nanni, accompanied by his recent comrade, 
Monti — who, having learned his only brother’s 
fate, had- now come weeping to sympathize with 


THE REMNANT. 


345 


his bereaved pastor — set out to search for Ser. 
Jacopo’s children. 

Mindful of Assunta’s last words Nanni pro- 
vided himself with a light, and having reached 
the deserted house went into the cellar. The 
place was chill, empty, silent. Nanni looked here 
and there and saw no place of hiding, for he had 
never been to the recess. Sure that they were 
not there he turned, and was half-way up the 
stair-case when something impelled him to 
cry : 

^‘Forano! Marchese! little Bepina! — where 
are you? ” 

“ Uncle Nanni ! ” cried the voice of Forano, 
faint and muffled. 

Nanni and his companion turned back. 

“Children, where are you? Come to me — 
come to your Uncle Nanni ! ” 

“In a moment,” shouted the voice of Mar- 
chese. 

And while Nanni waited at the foot of the 
stairs, uncertain where to turn, in the recess 
Forano lit the remains of his two candles, and, 
giving one to Marchese, led the little band out 
of their hiding-place, Marchese bringing up the 


346 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

rear. The seven children, faint and haggard, 
stood before their uncle in the uncertain light of 
their candles. 

“Father and mother have been so long 
coming," sobbed the youngest. 

“ We heard you in the cellar and thought it 
was robbers,” said Bepina. 

“ Oh, it has been so hard to obey mother and 
wait so long,” said Marchese. 

And Forano added : 

“ I was just telling the children that I must go 
up and see how things were when you came 
into the cellar.” 

Thus spoke the children, almost together; 
and still Nanni, holding his flickering lamp, 
stood silent before the new made orphans. 

“ Uncle,” said Forano, “ I know that something 
terrible has happened. Are my parents dead ? ” 

Without a reply Nanni led the band to the 
deserted shop. There was not a chair or bench 
for them. The empty room told its own tale. 
The pale children looked about aghast and 
began to weep, Bepina and her two youngest 
cousins calling loudly for their mothers. 

With much difficulty did Nanni quiet these 


THE REMNANT. 


347 


unhappy ones. Gently he told them that God 
had called their parents, their eldest brother, 
their Aunt Assunta, and her baby to a better 
world. Only to Forano and Marchese, and 
that at a later day, did he fully tell, as he had 
heard it from eye-witnesses, the sad story of 
the Barletta Massacre. 

The children were very faint from hunger, 
but the plundered home afforded them no food. 
Nanni gave them all a drink of cold water, took 
the youngest child in his arms, Monti carried 
Bepina, and the boys followed, and so, in the 
twilight, they returned to the house of Sen Fari. 

Such speed had been made that Assunta, with 
her babe in her arms, was already placed in her 
humble coffin. As the children, awed and tear^ 
ful, stood about the body of their aunt, with the 
Banchetti orphans among them, Monna Fari 
hastened to prepare them food. Sen Fari stated 
that he had been to the Prefect, who had de- 
clared his intention of coming to the house dur- 
ing the evening, and who desired that the burial 
should take place at dawn, he having already 
dispatched a man to dig a grave. 

After the children had eaten, Nanni asked 


348 THE OATH-KEEPER OP FOR A NO. 

how they had spent the three days and two 
nights while they had been prisoners in the cellar. 

“ When Aunt Mariana hurried us down,” said 
Forano, *‘she and our parents were to come too. 
We ran on with what things we had, keeping 
very silent. We crawled in the dark behind the 
archway, and then I struck a light. We entered 
the recess, and I put our bread in the box, and 
spread out the sheepskin for our grandmother. 
We heard the door shut, then no sound but a 
low roaring, and a sharp crack once or twice. 
Presently I put out the light, and we waited a 
long while, and the little ones cried. So then 
Marchese and I prayed softly with them, to 
comfort them, and we seated them all on the 
sheepskin, but Marchese and I sat on the box. 
Still we waited, and sometimes we repeated 
texts. After a great while — it must have been 
night — I lit the candle and gave the children 
some bread and olive oil, and after much more 
waiting I think we all fell asleep. I should 
have gone out to search, only my mother had so 
often bade me surely wait until she called, fearing 
our hiding-place might be betray -d. When all 
our bread, oil and wine were gone, we were very 


THE REMNANT. 


349 


thirsty and hungry, and so cold. The little ones 
moaned all the time, and we could hardly 
breathe. I was telling them that I must leave 
them in hiding while I crawled out, when we 
heard noises in the cellar, and then your voice.” 

After this narrative Monna Fari led the ex- 
hausted children into another room and put 
them to bed. Soon after the Prefect came. He 
spoke kindly to Nanni, commended Sen Fari for 
his humanity, expressed again and again his 
deep grief at “ this disaster,” and then inquired 
about the arrangements for the burial next day. 
He desired that the ceremony might be very 
quiet and brief, and performed at daybreak. 
His eye then fell on the two Banchetti children, 
who crouched together by the window, and he 
asked who they were. 

The orphans of Sen Banchetti and his wife, 
who were killed.” 

Terrible ! we must do something for them. 
Alone, destitute — davvero ! what can I do ! ” he 
exclaimed; then pondered. “There is an Evan- 
gelical Orphanage in Firenze ; I will pay their 
fare there if yc ^ know of any one to accompany 
them.” 

30 


350 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

I will do so,” said young Montf, boldly. “ I 
am going to the valleys to study to be a 
preacher of that faith for which my brother has 
died.” 

The Prefect looked at him thoughtfully; then 
said, as if iii a muse : 

'‘Talk of stamping out the Evangelici ! The 
more you kill them the more they grow; ten 
live ones for every one dead. Our church 
thrives by having everything its own way; your 
church thrives in spite of everything.” After a 
pause he added : " Make haste to be gone — go 
to-morrow. I will send you the money from the 
Prefecture to-night, enough to pay for the chil- 
dren.” 

"And I will make them ready to go,” added 
Monna Fari. 

"We shall, then, be gone by midday, illus- 
trissimo,'' said Monti. 

The sun was just above the horizon next 
day when the few Evangelicals who could be 
collected to attend to burying their pastor’s wife 
returned from the grave. The next thing to be 
done was to prepare the Banchetti children for 
departure. They were hatless, their shoes were 


THE REMNANT 


351 


ragged, and their check pinafores were soiled. 
Monna Fari proceeded to wash and iron the 
pinafores and to dress the children. Nanni and 
Forano used their utmost skill in mending the 
shoes. Monna Fan’s daughter went among 
some well-inclined neighbors and secured two' 
hats and two little shawls ; also a basket of. 
luncheon. Thus, all working, the mournful little 
travelers were made ready to set out by noon, 
assured that Monti would take them where kind 
care, good instruction and a peaceful future 
awaited them. 

The three travelers having departed, Nanni 
set himself to seeking out his scattered flock 
and collecting the records of the massacre. The 
Evangelical church had nurnbered forty mem- 
bers and some fifteen young children — a number 
of the elder children having publicly united with 
the church. 

The carnage of St. Joseph’s Day left the 
church thus: ten had been burned on the 
piazza; three adults had been buried since; 
eight members of the church were in the hos- 
pital; Monti, Joseph and Forano were accounted 
for ; two children were dead, victims of the riot ; 


352 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

two were gone to Firenze ; Bepina and the five 
younger sons of Ser. Jacopo were with the 
Faris ; the remaining five children of the church 
were with their parents, while the sixteen adults 
who remained unharmed were plundered of 
every particle of food, clothing and furniture 
which they possessed. One of the families left 
had some property in two or three small houses, 
and were able by means of this to’ re-establish 
themselves. The Municipality gave money to 
a family who had come from Pisa to return to 
their old home and friends, while one or two of 
the richer townspeople had taken into their ser- 
vice and protection a few others of the destitute 
Evangelici. The church which had thrived so 
well and borne witness so nobly was completely 
destroyed for the present. 

The Prefect told Nanni that it would be well 
for him to leave the city soon, and that the 
Municipality would not speedily admit the re- 
habilitation of the Vaudois church. 

Meanwhile Nanni had six impoverished, home- 
less orphans to provide for. Evidently he must 
return with them to Tuscany, where Miss Max- 
well, Dr. Polwarth and the Marchese P'orano 


THE REMNANT. 


353 


might befriend them. But Nanni was almost 
penniless ; the children were hatless, and with- 
out enough outer clothing ; the Faris had 
already exhausted their ability to give ; the 
Evangelicals were beggars, and the Municipality 
had come to the limit of its generosity, and 
were- considering that they had eight invalid 
heretics to support indefinitely in hospital. 
Charity slowly provided the needful clothing. 
The Prefect gave Nanni five francs, and Nanni 
had a few francs more, given him among the 
hills. The fare of an adult and six children 
traveling in public conveyances for such a long 
journey would amount to a much larger sum 
than Nanni Conti possessed. He concluded, 
therefore, to provide what food they could con- 
veniently carry, and set out, expecting to walk 
part of the way, get chance rides from kind 
country people whose carts might be going their 
road, and to take the cars as much as their 
means would allow. The weather was fine, and 
the roads were in excellent order, while the 
children were all well and vigorous. 

Thus finally, a week after the massacre, Nanni 
Conti and the orphans left Barletta, Nanni and 
30 * 


X 


354 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

the three elder boys carrying small hampers of 
provisions strapped to their shoulders, and the 
younger children only required to get on as well 
as they could at a quiet pace. Eager to escape 
as quickly as possible from the territory where 
they had the most foes, Nanni expended what 
money he had for railway traveling before he 
reached Tuscany, preferring to walk through 
Umbria and Tuscany. At Terni he unexpect- 
edly came upon Joseph, son of Ser. Jacopo, 
who, unable to endure his anxieties, had left his 
school in Piedmont and was hastening toward 
Barletta to seek for his family. The poor chil- 
dren were by this time much wearied, but meet- 
ing with Joseph refreshed them. The lad had 
been commended by his teachers to some Evan- 
gelical families at Terni, who kindly received all 
the wanderers for several days. A little money 
collected by these kind but very poor friends 
again furnished means for public conveyance 
until they entered Tuscany. 

Nanni knew one retired home where his 
weary charge could again rest and refresh 
themselves; once more he climbed the Tuscan 
hills to the home of the aged exile from 


THE REMNANT. 


355 


Firenze. The patriarch and his wife had heard 
a rumor of the massacre, and each day had, 
from their heights, been looking for the com- 
ing of the remnant that had escaped. The eagle 
eye of the mountaineer descried the pilgrim 
band from afar, and he hastened to meet them. 
Here again the fugitives rested for several days. 
The old mother was a kindly nurse; the aged 
father told them much of his only interview with 
Sandro, the martyr yojuth, and much of his own 
early days when Tuscany was in deepest bond- 
age, and of those later years when a resurrection 
of faith had begun in Italy, and when at last the 
evangel had obtained some freedom to visit the 
people. 

. Again Nanni and his little company set forth. 
The good Monna had filled the hampers with 
her best provisions; the children were refreshed 
by mountain air, and comforted by the .hope of 
reaching the old home which some of them re- 
membered. On they walked courageously, by 
wood,, stream, hill, valley; the lovely spring- 
time breathed its consolations into their souls. 
At last they struck the coast, and Elba and 
other fair isles lay before them in beauty on the 
placid sea. 


356 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

But with every advancing step, fresh floods 
of anguish rolled over Nanni’s heart. Memory 
was busy, replacing Assunta in the pleasant 
scenes where first he met her ; busy restoring 
the dear lost Sandro, busy recalling the once 
hospitable and joyous home of Sen Jacopo. 
These emotions he must restrain for the sake of 
his companions. 

The journey ended at Palazzo Borgosoia. It 
was a rainy, chilly evening ; the streets were 
dimly lighted; all the exiles were wet, faint, 
weary. The great gate of the Palazzo opened 
to them. They stood in the court asking for 
Signorina Maxwell. In a moment Honor, with 
Michael bounding at her side, came down the 
great stairway; she started as the forlorn group 
met her eye. At sight of her, Nanni’s fortitude 
gave .way ; here was the friend of his lost ones ; 
with a loud wail he flung his arms above his 
head, crying : Signora, compassionate us : we 
are the escaped of the massacre of Barletta 1 ” 


CHAPTER XIL 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 

No tear relieved the burden of her heart : 

Stunned with the heavy woe, she felt like one 
Half- wakened from a midnight dream of blood.” 

O N the morning of the day when Nanni and 
. the orphan children reached the Palazzo 
Borgosoia, the Marchesa Forano had dispatched 
that trusty (?) messenger, Gulio Ravi, on an er- 
rand to Honor Maxwell. Gulio was the bearer 
of a letter. The Marchesa had received a paper 
from Florence, of date March 27, 1866, and in 
this paper had read a full account of the tragedy 
at Barletta, only the names of the victims were 
wanting. 

The good woman was terribly distressed by 
this doleful news; she could hardly bring her- 
self to credit it, and as it was now the middle of 
April, she thought Miss Maxwell must have 

had direct intelligence from Barletta, and could 

(357) 


858 THE OATH- KEEFER OF FORA HO. 

tell her the exact truth about what had oc- 
curred; also if. her humble friends Assunta and 
Ser. Jacopo’s family had been in anywise in- 
jured. 

Therefore, when Nanni and his company had 
been cared for, when the exhausted children had 
gone to their beds, and while Gulio and the 
family servants crowded, breathless with interest 
and horror, at the door of the room where 
Uncle Francini was receiving a circumstantial 
account of the massacre from the lips of poor' 
Nanni, Honor replied to the Marchesa’s letter, 
telling how many, and who, had met martyr 
deaths, and describing the forlorn band which 
had just found shelter in the Palazzo Borgo- 
soia. 

No one was more impressed by Nanni Conti’s 
story than Gulio Ravi. Life had seemed for 
the most part a pleasant jest, an eat-drink-and- 
be-merry time, to this airy young man. He had 
his hours of gloom, when he saw his Marchese 
pining, and felt bound by his vow to withhold 
comfort from him, but generally Gulio was gay, . 
and his carnival lasted ten months of every 
year at the very least. But here he found a 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


359 


young man of his own age, and from his own 
class, who had had the religious experiences, 
done the Christian work, met the terrible losses, 
and reached the wonderful resignation and 
depth of heavenly consolation possessed by this 
Nanni Conti. Such a life set beside his own 
trifling, idling, self-serving, and folly, awed 
Gulio Ravi. Wherein lay that infinite differ- 
ence between himself and Nanni ? What was 
that mighty secret which had wrought in the 
Evangelist a character so different from that of 
Gulio? Gulio’s kindly heart deeply compas- 
sionated Nanni’s sorrows ; he shed tears for him, 
he offered him all the money which he had with 
him, and when Nanni declined it Gulio secretly 
slipped it into Nanni’s coat pocket. The two 
shared the same room that night, and Gulio 
asked Nanni many questions, passing gradually 
from mere events to questions about that 
religion which Nanni taught and lived, and 
for which Ser. Jacopo and so many others had 
been ready to die. ’ ‘ 

By dawn next day Gulio was on his way back: 
to the Villa Forano. He carried Honor’s letter,; 
and rode with all speed, his heart burning with 


360 THE OATH- KEEPER OF FOR ANO, 

honest indignation over the wrongs that had 
been inflicted on his old friends, weeping plenti- 
fully when he thought of the death of Assunta. 
Thus, overflowing with the sad story which he 
had to tell, Gulio, dusty and weary, dashed into 
the courtyard of the Villa Forano. 

It was not in Gulio’s nature to act quietly, to 
make the least of what he had to tell ; he must 
make himself prominent, and draw attention, if 
not as an actor in a scene, at least as a tragic 
narrator, and, to say the truth, at this present 
occasion he had rather be made the narrator. 
He therefore leaped from his sweating horse, ran 
into the house, waving Miss Maxwell’s letter 
over his head, beating his breast, weeping, and 
crying : “ Oh, illustrissimo , *it is all too true. 
Prepare yourselves for worse than the worst. 
Alas, all our friends are murdered: they are 
burned to death. Assunta is gone; her babe 
is in heaven. Ser. Jacopo, his wife, his mother, 
his son have all been burned in one fire ! O Mar- 
chesa, I have seen with my eyes, I have heard 
with my ears, I have had the orphans in my 
arms ; my heart has died within me ! ” 

Pouring forth such a torrent of speech to 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


361 


more deeply impress his master and mistress, 
and the train of servants who had followed his 
excited entrance to the salon, Gulio managed 
to give the letter to the Marchesa, and as she 
read it, he graphically described in word and act, 
with all his Italian hyperbole and passion, the 
murder of Sandro and Assunta — the sacking of 
houses, the ruin of Barletta. 

Nor did Gulio lack the reward he sought, 
nor fail to receive great satisfaction from his 
recital. The Marchese wrung his hands and 
groaned ; one of the maids, a particular friend 
of Assunta, fell into hysterics ; the men wept ; 
all the women shrieked. The Marchesa alone 
was silent, reading her letter. As soon as she 
had reached the signature the Marchesa rose. 
“ Calm yourselves, at least for a few moments,” 
she said, authoritatively, to her servants. “ Go, 
my good Gulio, and refresh yourself. Caesare, 
prepare the coach to take us to the city. Nina, 
make up my satchel for the night. Marchese, 
we go at once to Signorina Maxwell ; all these 
poor orphans are in her house, and the unhappy 
Nanni also.” 

The Marchese always approved the counsels 
31 


362 THE OATH-KEEPER OE EORANO. 

of his wife ; it was hers to plan, hers to execute. 
The ancient coach, worn, dusty, the Forano arms 
almost obliterated, was dragged into the court- 
yard ; two stout horses, used indifferently for the 
plow, the cart, or the coach, were harnessed, 
and Caesare, who was coachman on occasion, 
but ordinarily gardener, stable-boy and field- 
hand, invested himself with a suit of faded, 
threadbare, Forano livery, of antique cut. There 
was no delay ; all were too much excited to be 
dilatory. Caesare, on his part, burned to reach 
the city, and see for himself the children who 
had so narrowly escaped slaughter. 

The Marchese and his wife meanwhile put on 
their seldom-used state garments. Not for years 
had the worthy couple made so long a journey 
as this. When the Marchesa had donned, the 
velvet gown and cloak and the state bonnet, 
which usually appeared in use only on Easter 
Sunday, the festivals of the Virgin, and one or 
two other grg.nd anniversaries, she looked a 
dame of consequence indeed. The Marchese 
acquired additional stately grace from his best 
cloak and patent-leather boots, and gloves of 
purple kid embroidered in gold, over the wrists 


■ FRIENDS IN NEED. 


363 


of which fell long lace ruffles, in fashion of the 
olden time — a time which the Marchese, theo- 
retically, much esteemed. When the great gate 
had been set open, travelers and coachman were 
in their places. Caesare, by a liberal use of the 
whip, communicated something of his own im- 
patience to his horses, and away rumbled the old 
coach toward the distant town. That evening, 
when Uncle Francini had gathered his house- 
hold for prayers, a furious ringing of the bell 
summoned the porter from the worshipping 
circle ; the coach-gate presently opened with a 
crash, and by the time that the family had risen 
from their knees the tall figure of the old 
Marchese appeared behind his wife at the door 
of the salon. 

Dear Marchesa,” said Honor, greeting her 
friend, “ this is a great and unexpected favor.” 

‘Tt is proper,” replied the Marchesa, “it is 
fit that I should come; all the fugitives in your 
house are my country people, of my own poor 
friends, of those born on the Forano estate; it 
is fit that I should come to help you provide for 
them.” 

“ We were waiting to hear from you before 


364 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

we made any arrangements for them,” said 
Honor, establishing her friends near the blazing 
wood fire, grateful after an evening journey; and 
ringing for supper. 

Davvero, Signorina,” said the Marchesa, 
nervously, “ I cannot eat until you let me speak 
my sympathies to Nanni Conti and see those 
desolate children.” 

“ They are all in the room below,” said 
Honor; “ Nanni had prayers with them early in 
the evening, lest they should grow sleepy. Still 
they have not yet gone to bed; their troubles 
and their journey have excited them, and they 
do not sleep well.” 

“ Let us go and speak with them at once,” 
said the Marchese. 

Honor led the way, and in a lower room they 
found Nanni, reclining wearily in an arm-chair, 
with his nephews and niece gathered about him. 
Michael also was in the group. He had begged 
hard to sit up, and his buoyant spirits and his 
constant stream of amusing conversation seemed 
so to beguile the thoughts of the unhappy or- 
phans that Honor allowed him to be constantly 
with them. The jolly Michael, with his exuber- 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


365 


ant health, afforded a startling contrast to the 
pale, anxious, grieved faces of his less fortunate 
companions. He raised a jubilant shout at 
sight of the Marchesa, and ran to embrace her. 
On her part she grew very pale as she caressed 
him, and, even while she was speaking to the 
others, frequently and with a sigh turned her 
eyes upon him. 

When the Marchesa had relieved her mind by 
shaking hands with each of the exiles, and after 
speaking consolation to each in her own quaint, 
hearty fashion, she returned to the salon, while 
Honor ordered all the juveniles to bed. 

During supper-time the Marchesa seemed 
much pre-occupied; after the meal was over she 
said, softly, to Honor: 

“ Strange as you may think it, my mind is 
this moment less absorbed in the troubles and 
future of these poor wanderers than in my own 
past. When Michael ran to meet me to-night 
he was almost the living image of my dear 
Nicole. Just so did Nicole run to meet me 
when I returned from a trip to Pisa, or the 
baths of Lucca. That same smile, that same 
bounding health. Very much such complexion 
31 * 


366 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and features — but our Nicole’s eyes were blue. 
Ah me, Signorina, mia, that dear Nicole 
should die so young, and our home be left 
desolate.” 

The following morning Dr. and Mrs. Pol- 
warth came to the Palazzo Borgosoia, and with 
the Foranos, Uncle Francini and Honor, met 
Nanni in the salon to plan for the future of eight 
destitute and homeless children. 

Uncle Francini had already given Joseph 
money to return to his school in the Valleys, 
and he intended to set out as soon as he had 
learned what should be the fate of his brothers. 

“ Marchese,” said Nanni, “ is now thirteen. 
He is a very bright lad, fond of study, and de- 
vout. He desires to be an evangelist. I think 
I had better send him with his brother to the 
Valleys, where I will be able to support him 
myself; for I shall resume my work as an 
evangelist, and it costs me a mere trifle for 
my own support. I can use nearly all my 
earnings for Marchese, until he can take care 
of himself.” 

“I spoke with the boy Forano this morning,” 
said the Marchese, and I find that he wants to 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 367 

be a vine-dresser. He likes the country, the 
care of olives and grapes. He seems to have an 
especial claim on me from his name, and if he 
likes to go home with me, my care and my 
house are ready for him; he shall be. made a 
good vineyard keeper.” 

“As for the little Bepina,” said Honor, “ she 
is a tidy, -gentle child, and I will take her in 
charge and bring her up as my maid. I think 
she will be useful and happy with me.” 

“Well,” said Uncle Francini, with a smile, 
“ that fourth lad of eleven must fall to me. I 
found the youngster in my studio this morning, 
entranced before one of my pictures, and trying 
to scrawl a copy of it on the tiles of the floor. 
I asked him if he* liked pictures, and would be 
pleased ta grind colors, and prepare canvas, 
and live in a studio, and he said that he 
would. How do we know but the fellow 
may be a genius ? Even if he is not, he can 
learn to make a support for himself as artist’s 
assistant.” 

“The youngest child can go in my infant 
school,” said Mrs. Polwarth, “and I will be 
responsible for its support, in the house of the 
Vaudois pastor.” 


368 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR ANO. 

But yet two children remained unprovided 
for. “ We might find liberal foreigners who 
would support them in orphanages in England 
or America,” suggested Honor. 

“ By no means,” cried Uncle Francini; “never 
let us drain Italy of one drop of honest evan- 
gelical blood. These children are part of the 
stamina, bone and sinew needed for our Italy’s 
regeneration. Every protestant Italian, every 
patriotic, liberal heart is of priceless worth ; do 
not let us be party to depriving Italy of one 
loyal son, of one patriotic thought ; she needs 
them all. These are children whom it pleased 
God should be born Italians ; they will not then 
properly fulfill their destiny by being turned into 
mongrel English or Americans.” 

“The boys have suffered in the cause of 
Italian freedom,” said Nanni, rising, catching the 
glow of the old artist’s enthusiasm. “ This 
massacre at Barletta is a part of the price we 
must pay for the possession of religious liberty. 
They who suffer much, and give much, love 
much. Let them live to benefit their country- 
men and to return great good for this evil.” 

Honor turned to her friends with a smile. 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


369 


Mrs. Polwarth, put these boys in your schools 
and get them a home with some of the Vaudois 
people. God will send the means to provide for 
them. Jewels are not worth so much as souls, 
as good brains, as patriots. If we cannot get 
money for these little fellows in any other way, 
I have a few jewels which will bring enough to 
keep them for two years or more, and they shall 
have them.” 

Now there was at Forano a square silver box. 
It was of small size and light weight, but in it 
were gems of price, antiquities to make a col- 
lector faint with envy. There were onyx rings 
of such curious beauty as had never been 
equalled, and there were two signet rings which 
had lain for centuries in the tomb of Charle- 
magne. The Marchese and the Marchesa 
looked at each other. ‘Xitizens, patriots, are 
worth more than gems,” said the Marchesa. 
‘‘ We are the last of our house ; if we sell these 
jewels they will go to strangers ; if we die we 
leave them to strangers. Alas, they have been 
in the family of Forano for many, many genera- 
tions — but let us sacrifice them, rather than that 
these Italian children, victims of our church and 

Y 


370 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

of our countrymen, should be left destitute,” said 
the Marchese ; yet it was evident that his heart 
was torn by the sacrifice. Such people as the 
Marchese cling strangely and pathetically to 
their heirlooms and their lineage. 

‘*Well done!” cried Uncle Francini : ^‘but 
let us sacrifice nothing at present. I’ll advertise 
in London and New York my last vineyard 
picture as for sale for the benefit of the orphans 
of Barletta, with portraits in it of the three 
younger. That will bring us some generous 
purchaser. I like to sell my pictures; but, 
Yionox jiglia^ your jewels are gifts, and very few 
and simple. As for the Forano heirlooms, Mar- 
chese, let them last your day.” 

Thus these good people vied with each other 
in the riches of their liberality, the only riches 
which they possessed. The only reason that 
Mrs. Polwarth did not add her offer to sacrifice 
something with the rest was that she had already 
given up everything which she could give, to get 
money to start her schools — blessed schools — 
where she was preparing Christian patriots for 
Italy. . 

Thus at last all the orphans were provided 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


S71 


for, and that evening Nanni Conti set off for the 
valleys with Joseph and Marchese; the Foranos 
made ready to return to their villa with their 
namesake ; Mrs. Polwarth lodged the three 
younger lads in their new home, 'and little 
Bepina was left to the tender care of Plonor 
Maxwell. 

As all these preparations had taken much 
time, it became too late for the Marchese to go 
home that night, though the old gentleman 
deplored the delay, having a secret feeling that 
ruin would fall on Villa Forano if he were long 
absent. After the evening meal Honor and the 
Marchesa were sitting alone, when the old lady 
said gravely: 

Signorina, you have not yet demanded the 
fulfillment of my promise?” 

“ What promise, Marchesa?” asked Honor. 

Did I not say to you that if my church 
turned persecutor, if she proved that she had not 
grown better than in those cruel years when she 
shed rivers of blood, I would abandon her ? ” 

But, Marchesa, you perhaps may not con- 
sider this the act of your church ; it may not 
have been official.” 


372 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

said,” persisted Madame Forano, ‘^if my 
church, her priests, or her people showed them- 
selves persecuting and cruel : if they took again 
fire or sword to press their claim, I would 
thenceforth abandon her.” 

“ Very likely, cara arnica^ you do not feel it 
right to be held bound to leave your church, 
because of the outbreak of a mob of the people, 
of a distant city,” said Honor, cautiously. 

I am a woman of my word,” said the Mar- 
chesa, with dignity. “I deal in no subterfuge. 
What do I see? I see the priests of my church, 
priests trained at the very feet of il papa^ exciting 
people to murder ; I see citizens endeavoring to 
destroy Protestants — not to win them over to the 
Catholic Church by showing good lives, by gentle 
words, by honesty, by any common-sense method, 
but by cruelties which should be unheard of, even 
as used against wild beasts. I see, Signorina, the 
Catholic Church, the duo7fio itself, used as a 
place to urge people- to these horrible excesses; 
I see my own priests leading on the murderers 
and applying the torch ; I see my fellow church- 
members dancing about the dying agonies of 
those who had never injured them; and I hear 


FRIENDS IN NEED. 


373 


priests and people saying that this is a Catholic 
way, a right way, the only way to exterminate 
heresy, and that the Catholic Church is just as 
bound to exterminate heresy, as she was when 
Fra Savonarola and Fra Antonio Paleario were 
butchered. Oh, Signorina, is this the word? is 
this the deed of a true church ? Alas ! I see 
that my church is rotten at the very heart. 
She is not to be regenerated ; her brain is gone ; 
her' heart is gone ; she is a foul corpse fit only to 
be buried. No, Signorina, a dozen years ago I 
was a hearty, undoubting, blind Catholic. Three 
years ago I was a less hearty Catholic, holding 
to my church in some doubt, my eyes opened 
to some of her errors ; my love grieved for her. 
A year ago I was a Catholic because I would be 
one and dreaded to \)e a turncoat; I held on to 
my church, distrusting her, yet striving to 
believe in her. To-night all is gone, I have let 
loose my hold on her, I am no Catholic : then I 
suppose I am an Evangelical.” 

But, Marchesa, it is not well that you should 
be an Evangelical for such reasons as these ; it 
is not well to come into my church simply 
because you have left your own. Your eyes are 
32 


874 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

open to the error of your church, you therefore 
leave her. Let your eyes be open to the truth 
in my church, before you receive her.” 

“ This is common sense, carissima. But 
where shall I see the truth of your church? 
Already I have beheld it in the lives of her chil- 
dren: where else can I look?” 

Where I have often told you to go for in- 
struction, dear Marchesa : to the Word of God. 
Go to the Bible. You cannot be a true Evan- 
gelical unless you read and obey that holy book. 
The Bible is our guide book, our book of doc- 
trine, our rule of faith. If you want to know 
the belief of Protestants, read the Bible.” 

Certainly, I will read it, Signorina. Will 
you kindly give me one ? I ask the gift I have 
often refused. I only feared to read the Scrip- 
tures, lest they should divide me from my old 
church ; because I feared I should find it im- 
possible to read them, and not be a turncoat — 
a thousand pardons, mia cara — I mean a con- 
vert. I see now it was settled that in spite of 
all, I should be an Evangelical. The Foranos 
must change their creed. Give me then a 
Bible, and I shall study it every day.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 

“ Thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an one as thyself.” 

E give one last glance at Barletta. Let us 



V V see how reprisals were made for the 
massacre of St. Joseph’s Day. Some ten days 
after the outbreak, the authorities of the church 
in the city of Rome sent to demand Padres 
Postiglione and Trentadue, on the plea that no 
ecclesiastic could be tried before a civil tri- 
bunal, and that they must answer for their 
alleged crimes before the authorities of their 
church. 

The two priests were at once sent to Rome. 
They went in calm confidence. The authorities 
could not bring themselves to be severe upon 
the little excesses of devotion. Padres Postig- 
lione' and Trentadue had both precept and prece- 
dent on their side. We are at a loss to see how 
a papal court could condemn these men for what 


( 375 ) 


376 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

they had done; they had canon law, papal 
statute law, and ancient practice to plead in their 
defence. If an infallible pope, speaking through 
his cardinals and bishops, pronounced these 
men guilty, in so doing a long succession of 
popes and cardinals must be pronounced guilty; 
also, it is wrong to heap obloquy on the dead ; 
it is wrong to condemn men who have not trans- 
gressed law ; it is wrong to blame men for fol- 
lowing the example of their superiors, of canon- 
ized saints. 

Padre Postiglione was pronounced — not guilty. 
Padre Trentadue was pronounced — not guilty. 
Padres Postiglione and Trentadue returned to 
their dwellings. No sooner had these two been 
successfully disposed of, than the bishop of 
whose diocese Barletta formed a part made a 
requisition on the municipality for Friar Bene- 
detto and the two cathedral priests, that they 
might be tried at his bar, he being their only 
legal judge. The municipality called a coach, 
put the three ecclesiastics therein, mounted a 
policeman on the box by the driver, and sent 
them to the Episcopal palace. The policeman 
resigned the^culprits to the bishop. The bishop 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 


377 


reasoned with them — perhaps not of “ righteous- 
ness, temperance, and judgment to come,” but 
doubtless on very excellent themes. Then Friar 
Benedetto was restored to his monastery, where 
he lived as before, save that for a year or two 
he did not circulate so freely as formerly through 
• the streets of Barletta. 

The senior priest of the Cathedral said mass 
in his place, the next month ; .the people then 
loudly demanded their junior priest, “they must 
not be debarred the privileges of religion” — 
and so the junior priest came back. The seven 
women arrested answered before the magistrate 
of Barletta after five weeks’ imprisonment. The 
verdict was not proveUy and the women went 
home. Within two months every individual 
arrested returned without fine or any punish- 
ment to their former abodes and occupations. 

The Sub-Prefect recovered from his wounds, 
but he and the Prefect were dismissed from 
office, because they “ had not shown themselves 
able to maintain order.” In other words, they 
had accorded to the Protestants some of the 
rights of citizenship, and had objected to their 
being murdered. 

32 * 


378 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO, 

The mob, however, had accomplished its 
object. I write on the thirteenth anniversary of 
this massacre, and the Protestant Church has 
not yet been reorganized in Barletta. 

When we look upon earthly justice and af- 
fairs from a human standpoint, our view is con- 
fined and narrow. If we could regard them as 
they are beheld by the eye of God, we would 
find them to reach out further and wider. The 
year 1866 had not reached its prime when 
Padre Postiglione was called to his account in 
the Court of Heaven, where, although he might 
have had as his advocate the accuser of our 
brethren, which accused them before our God, 
day and night ; ” the plea for his defense, which 
was all-effective when uttered by human lips in 
human ears, before a human court, would sound 
strangely base and illogical in the court super- 
nal, for Guilty ” would be the sentence of the 
great Judge. 

Through the summer night an unseen mes- 
senger sped to the city of Tiber, passed in un- 
challenged, and entered a house on the Via di 
Ara Coeli, and there, in the sleeping ear of Padre 
Postiglione, uttered the sentence of death. No 


PAIRING A WRONG. ^ 379 ‘ 

time of shrift was given. Padre Postiglione 
leaped to his feet, flung up his arms with a 
shriek that echoed through the house, fell for- 
ward with a look of horror frozen upon his face 
forever ; and the viewless executioner hastened 
forth, leaving only a cold lump of clay that once 
had been Padre Postiglione. Thus his path 
ended in a night that had no morning. 

We now turn gladly to another path, that of 
the just, which shines more and more in exceed- 
ing brightness toward the perfect day. 

As the bountiful summer grows to its ma- 
turity, Uncle Francini and his household are at 
the Villa Anteta, and the vineyards and rose- 
gardens echo to the shouts of Michael heading 
the sports of little Bepina, and the boy Jacopo, 
to whom the gentle old artist allows much 
leisure from the work of grinding paints, scrap- 
ing palettes, and preparing canvas. 

The last Vineyard picture ” has been duly 
advertised, and is already promised to a liberal 
patron, and Uncle Francini is better than his 
word, for not only does he paint 'in the three 
younger boys of Ser. Jacopo, each rioting like a 
young Bacchus among the ruddy vines, but he 


380 • THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR ANO. 

has painted the quaint figure of Bepina in the 
mountain costume of her Aunt Assunta, carrying 
a tray of grapes on her head, beneath which looks 
out a pretty face with a tearful pathos underlying 
its smiles. 

But while the summer has ripened grape and 
grain, a seed sown during these several seasons 
by Honor Maxwell in the Marchesa’s heart has 
been bringing forth fruit. When the Bible, and 
that Vaudois youth Forano entered the Villa 
Forano, light, began to spread. The Marchesa 
and her husband began to read the Scriptures ; 
the common sense of the Signora, and the 
keener intellectual perception of the Marchese, 
were applied to the letter of the word, and by 
degrees they received a hungering and thirsting 
for spiritual gifts, and then they began to be 
filled. 

Nor was the lad Forano without his mission 
to his benefactors ; as they questioned him, he 
gave them many of the teachings which he had 
received at home, while his upright conduct 
gave weight to his words. 

To Gulio Ravi the Vaudois boy was especially 
a teacher. After some months, lying, which had 


JR E FACING A WRONG. 


381 


been as daily bread, began to leave a bitter taste 
in Gulio’s mouth. His superstition also relaxed 
a little, and he had often strong inclinings to- 
ward going to his master and confessing the 
truth about Ser. Nicole’s child. Pride, however, 
hindered Gulio ; fear also, for he was an arrant 
coward. The Marchese would upbraid and dis- 
miss him. So Gulio still held his peace, but 
meant some time to do better. He traded as 
largely in good intentions as in lies. 

The Marchese and his wife, having withdrawn 
from their former church, attended no more at 
the Chapel of the Assumption, and, following 
the example of their superiors, with their usual 
docility, the servants also ceased to attend the 
customary services. 

The restiveness against priestly domination 
was spreading more and more in Italy, and 
the people on the Forano estate and in the 
vicinity were withdrawing themselves from all 
practice of religion. The Marchesa said to her 
husband : 

These country people will soon have no re- 
ligion whatever. They are quarreling with the 
old doctrine, while they know no other; they 


S82 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

reject the priest, but seek no better teacher; 
they are ignorant, they cannot read, they are no 
better than when they were zealous Catholics, 
and they are likely to be neither good Christians 
nor good citizens.” 

“ Perhaps they had better have a school,” 
said the Marchese. 

“They are too ignorant to know that they 
need a school. Let us begin by teaching them 
their wants, then they will crave a supply. Let 
us send for Nanni Conti to come here for a few 
weeks and evangelize them.” 

^'Mia arnica^ you are a woman of extraordi- 
nary common sense,” said the Marchese. “ Let 
us write for Nanni.” 

Nanni Conti, being written to, came to Forano 
with his books, his roadside talks, his from- 
house-to-house teachings ; to be at this place, 
opened afresh the recent wounds in his heart ; 
but Nanni’s charity for souls could “ endure all 
things.” 

Nanni’s presence and teachings brought to 
Gulio Ravi an increase of remorse. Of late 
he had put the affair about the lost child 
out of his mind, because the Marchese had 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 383 

ceased to mention his grief about it, and Gulio 
thought it a good plan '‘to let well enough 
alone.” 

Nanni, however, was continually speaking 
words about the “book of account,” the “judg- 
ing according to the deeds done in the body,” 
the demand God makes for righteousness ; and 
these words were each as a dart sent into 
Gulio’s soul. 

Finally the anxious Gulio concluded that he 
would go to the “ Chapel of Sta. Maria Maggiore 
of tl\e hills ” and ascertain if any one knew the 
whereabouts of Padre Innocenza. If he could 
only find the priest, and persuade him to accede 
to the breaking of the vow he had made — if, in 
fact, he could make the Padre shoulder all the 
responsibility of the past, and make clear to the 
Marchese the whole 'story, leaving Gulio Ravi 
in the position of an honest fellow who had done 
his best, all circumstances considered — then the 
whole plot should be laid bare and the Mar- 
chese made happy. Filled with these singu- 
larly generous and self-sacrificing plans, Gulio 
rode off one morning, pleading “affairs.” His 
“ affairs ” were supposed to lead him to Pisa; 


384 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

they ended in taking him to Sta. Maria 
Maggiore. 

Gulio rode to the priest’s cottage. The gar- 
den was gay; the windows were clean; the place 
was well cared for; but the door was locked, and 
no one was within. 

At last, in response to Gulio’s knocks and 
calls, the former factotum of Padre Innocenza, a 
lean boy, whose few rags had long ago been 
only half large enough for him, and who now 
showed neck, arms and legs stretching far be- 
yond the frayed edges of his garments, came 
lounging from the shady side of a wall, where 
he had been taking a siesta of half a day. 

Where is the Padre ? ” demanded Gulio. 

We haven’t any Padre,” said the boy, sulk- 
ily; “we don’t get on well with Padres.” 

“Where, then, is Padre Innocenza?” 

^'Altro — w^e wish you could^tell us. We have 
never set eyes on his blessed countenance since 
the Bishop ejected him.” 

“And have you no one in his place?” 

''Ecco ! ” growled the boy. “ If the Bishop 
has the right to eject our padre, we have a right 
to eject his padres. We are all willing to have a 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 


385 


padre — if we can have the one we want. We all 
are ready to pay our dues — if we can pay them 
to the right man. We are, all good Catholics — 
if we are only let have an evangelical priest. 
Sicora. I believe these bishops do not know 
how to agree with us Liberal Italians.” 

** But the house looks well taken care of,” said 
Gulio. 

Daw erOy I take care of that. Padre Inno- 
cenza may return some day. I am the deputy 
of the people of Sta. Maria Maggiore, to keep 
the place in order for our old padre.” 

Gulio could not avoid laughing in the face of 
this magniloquent deputy and ragged Liberal 
Italian. He, however, atoned for the laugh by 
giving the boy two francs, requesting him to ob- 
tain therewith a dinner, which they two should 
partake together in the garden. 

While the dinner was preparing, Gulio strolled 
to the church, and as the door was open he went 
in. The place was silent, cold, covered with 
dust ; the holy water was yet kept in the basin ; 
an old woman was praying in a corner ; the old 
woman told Gulio that a priest came from Pisa 

or Leghorn now and then and said mass, and 
33 z 


386 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORA NO. 

that these priests when sent for buried the dead 
and baptized the children. As Gulio stood on 
the church steps, a man who had known him in 
Ser. Nicole’s time passed by, and with some dif- 
ficulty recognized him. He confirmed the boy’s 
story of their ignorance of Innocenza’s where- 
abouts, and their desire for his return. He said 
also, “that the people would not abide other 
teachings than those which the Padre had given 
during the last years of his stay among them ; 
that many of the people left their children un- 
baptized, buried their dead without aid of a 
priest, and went to Pisa or Lucca to get mar- 
ried ; he thought if an Evangelist came among 
them he would be well received ; they wanted 
books and papers, and to be treated like Liberal 
Italians ; they did not care for priests who se- 
cretly cursed Vittorio Emmanuelo and his gov- 
ernment.” 

On the following day Gulio returned to his 
home, and as may be supposed, he was not long 
in detailing all that he had heard at Sta. Maria, 
without mentioning that he himself had been 
-seeking Padre Innocenza. Nanni Conti at once 
recalled the field of some of his former labors 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 


387 


and the reception which he had met with from 
both priest and people. His heart warmed to 
these shepherdless sheep, and in the beginning 
of autumn he finished his work at Forano, and 
declared his intention of laboring in Padre In- 
nocenza’s forsaken field. The Marchese en- 
deavored to dissuade him, thinking that the at- 
tention of the clergy being especially turned to 
this parish, they would resent the interference 
of an Evangelical, and Nanni might add to the 
number of the martyrs of his family. 

But Nanni was ready if need be both “ to be 
bound or to die;” besides, as he told the Mar- 
chese, where the people are liberal in their feel- 
ings, supporters of the present government, and 
friendly to Evangelicals, such scenes as that at 
Barletta cannot be enacted among them ; perse- 
cution obtains where the priests have a bigoted 
people to excite to madness by their exhorta- 
tions. 

At Forano, Nanni’s path had been greatly 
smoothed by the adherence of the Foranos and 
the family at Villa Anteta, with the correspond- 
ing sentiments of the servants of the two houses. 
The priest of the Chapel of the Assumption had 


388 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

endeavored to interfere, and once took Nanni 
soundly to task, at the Pavilion, for denying 
the efficacy of good works, and declaring that 
men were to be saved only by grace. “ It 
is a blasphemous doctrine,” he cried. “How 
dare you preach that all the good works of this 
notable lady, the Marchesa Forano, are not ca- 
pable of placing her in heaven; and that she 
must be saved purely by free grace like a com- 
mon sinner?” The Marchesa here declared 
that she accepted this doctrine, felt that she was 
a great sinner, and looked only to be saved by 
the free mercy of God. 

“Cospetto, Signora,” said the priest, giving his 
shoulders a mighty shrug, “ if you are willing 
on your part to be considered a poor sinner, it 
is not likely that I shall fight your battles. You 
have never been a very good pupil of mine, al- 
ways dragging in your'common sense, sicoraf' 
This priest was growing old and fat; he had 
always been lazy ; he concluded to mumble his 
masses and get his dues, holding the Chapel of 
the Assumption valiantly, and letting the stupid 
congregation take their own way. Thus Nanni 
Conti was able to labor for some time with good 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 


389 


success at Forano, and then set off for a month’s 
sojourn at Santa Maria Maggiore. His month’s 
work grew into three, and at the beginning of 
winter he returned to Florence. 

We saw Padre Innocenza in the fall of 1865, 
following Judith Forano to the New World. 
Having at New York received his humble 
wages for his services as waiter on the steamer, 
he at once repaired to Philadelphia, and sought 
out the address br. Polwarth had given him. 

Mrs. Bruce’s house was closed; the neighbors 
did not know where, the family had gone; in 
fact, the servants, to whom the Padre applied 
for information, did not half understand his 
broken speech, and found “I don’t know” the 
most convenient form of reply to his queries. 
The poor man was at his last penny, and felt 
that he had failed in the mission which he had 
set himself. He next sought the few gentlemen 
to whom he had letters of introduction, and en- 
deavored to obtain work through their means. 
He was received with kindness, but exiles were 
numerous, demand for masters in Italian was 
small ; the gentlemen were pressed with business 
and applications. Two or three pupils were 
33 * 


890 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

obtained; the despairing stranger found sym- 
pathy and shelter among some poor countrymen 
of his who lived as image-makers, musicians, 
and small manufacturers. Food was dear, 
clothes were dear, the cold weather told on the 
Italian. By Christmas the unhappy Padre In- 
nocenza was in great misery. 

ft 

At this hour of distress he was discovered by 
■a member of the Young Men’s Christian Com- 
mission. The story of exile, of poverty, of 
bitter disappointment, was poured into a sym- 
pathizing ear. This friend in need found Inno- 
cenza lying in a garret, ill of pneumonia; he 
took him to a hospital, where he was cured ; he 
provided him with warm clothing; he hired for 
him a modest but well-warmed room ; when he 
was able to leave the hospital, he obtained work 
for him ; he took him to church, and brought a 
good pastor to visit him, and thus once more 
the Padre had a happy issue out of his troubles. 

Health and comfort having returned, Inno- 
cenza began anew his search for Judith Forano : 
the spring of 1,867 came and still he had not 
discovered her. He wrote again to Dr. Pol- 
warth, but his letter never reached its destina- 


REPAIRING A WRONG. 


391 


tion. In May of this year he was suddenly 
called upon to take charge for a few weeks of 
Italian classes in a fashionable school, the Italian 
teacher being ill! The Padre taught with much 
acceptance for a month, when one morning the 
principal of the school told him that the teacher 
was able to resume her labors. As Padre Inno- 
cenza had given great satisfaction in the school 
the principal proposed to have the teacher listen 
to his method of conducting the classes that 
day, that they might give him as strong a 
recommendation as possible to another school. 
The Padre had been teaching some fifteen min- 
utes when the door of the class-room opened 
opposite him, and a lady stepped quietly to an 
adjacent desk. Their eyes met, and recognition 
was mutual. Padre Innocenza had found Judith 
Forano. Pie gave a half exclamation, and 
dropped his book, partly recovered himself as 
he picked it up, but his voice faltered sadly as 
he read the next line of Paradiso. Judith trem- 
bled, until the desk on which she leaned shook; 
a young lady kindly handed her a glass of water, 
saying: “You have come back before you are 
able, Madame Forano.” Then the class went 


892 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

on as before, and these two, between whom lay 
such an infinite wrong: Judith, whose future was 
in Padre Innocenza’s keeping; Innocenza, to 
whom Judith only could afford the peace of for- 
giveness, sat out the slow hours, while class after 
class were reading, parsing, blundering, draw- 
ling, and passably succeeding, with the lessons 
of the day. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 

T he bell rang for the dismissal of the pupils; 

Innocenza rose and bowed as the girls 
passed in a long file before his desk. The door 
closed behind them. He bent his head and stood 
like a culprit before Judith Forano. “You 
robbed me of my child!” burst out Judith. 
“God knows, Madame Forano, I have repented 
with an agony of sorrow; I would buy you 
back that child with my life.” “Your mercy 
comes too late,” said Judith, resting her head on 
the desk and weeping violently. 

Just here the principal of the school walked 
into the room and stood amazed, looking at his 
two teachers. 

Padre Innocenza was equal to the occasion. 
“ Madame Forano and I have met before,” he 

said, in a subdued tone, “in days of joy, when 

( 393 ) 


394 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

her husband lived — in days of sorrow, when he 
died and left her very desolate.” 

Judith started to her feet; was Innocenza ad- 
mitting her marriage ? What had wrought this 
change? 

The penitent priest interpreted her rising as a 
sign that she was about to fly from his abhorred 
presence. He placed himself before her, saying, 
in Italian: “Signora Forano, behold in me a 
deeply sorrowful man, only anxious to repair 
his evil deeds. Give me your address, I pray 
you. I have many things to say.” 

Judith gave the required address and hastened 
away ; at the sight of the destroyer of her peace, 
her old excitement and passion had rushed upon 
her; every tone of his voice occasioned a new 
thrill of agony. As she meditated in private on 
her varied fortunes, her feelings softened: she 
beheld the guiding hand of God bringing good 
for her out of evil, and ever delivering her in 
her hour of extremity: the storm of passion 
died away, patience and forgiving charity suc- 
ceeded, and with these better feelings she met 
Padre Innocenza when he came to visit her. 

The ex-priest told her frankly how he had 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 


395 


robbed her of her child, and how Gulio R’avi 
had been his agent in taking the child to the 
Innocenti. 

“ I saw Gulio Ravi as I left Italy,” said Judith, 
“and he told me my child lived. My father 
wrote to the British Consul, and Gulio told him 
the child was dead and buried in a convent.” 

“The poor fellow said so because / had said 
so, and he feared to contradict me; I, unhappy 
that I am, had used my priestly office to bind 
the ignorant youth by a horrible oath.” 

Innocenza soon convinced Judith that the one 
ardent wish of his heart was to restore her child 
to her ; not only was the continued misery 
wrought for her by his crime a daily burden 
on his heart, but he desired to get back the 
heir of the Foranos, lest the Romish Church 
should receive the estate. 

“ I cannot find this child,” said Innocenza ; 
“ I have sought for months. But I have clung 
to the thought that you, his mother, if you 
knew that he lived, and were once more in 
Italy, could by some quick woman’s thought, 
or -mighty instinct, discover him.” 

“ If you were in Italy searching, if Guilo Ravi 


396 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

and the Foranos aided, if I were there, if we 
advertised and offered rewards, we might suc- 
ceed,” said Judith, nervously. 

“ But I have always feared to do anything of 
the kind, lest some child be thrust upon me 
which was not the true heir. I have only the 
age, date, and that one mark by which I could 
even hope to identify the right child. Oh, how 
a man’s sins rise up and pursue him as avengers 
of blood! How easy is it in an hour to do that 
which we forever after vainly strive and weep to 
undo.” 

To Judith and the Padre but one plan of ac- 
tion seemed open— they must return to Italy 
and seek for the lost child. They were both 
nearly equally without means, but Padre Inno- 
cenza declared himself ready to return, as he had 
come from England, in the capacity of waiter. 
He would go to England, thence to Italy, on 
any ship which would accept his services in lieu 
of passage money. Arrived at some Mediter- 
ranean port of Italy, he would walk to any place 
where Judith would meet him, and together 
they would go to Villa Forano. 

Mrs. Bruce had by this time returned from 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 397 

spending a long time in Florida with an invalid 
sister. When Judith told her of Innocenza’s 
visit and story, Mrs. Bruce declared that Ma- 
dame Forano should not go to Italy alone, but 
that she would accompany her, and they would 
begin their search by finding Miss Maxwell, who 
could introduce them to the Marchesa Forano. 

The truth was Mrs. Bruce doubted Padre In- 
nocenza’s sincerity, and did not intend to trust 
him until she heard of his conversion from other 
lips than his own. 

The Padre humbly accepted suspicion as part 
of the penalty of past misdoing. His plan of 
crossing the sea as a ship’s servant did not need 
to be carried out; his friend of the Christian 
Commission obtained him an engagement with 
a wealthy family about to visit Europe, to 'whose 
sons he could act as tutor in French, Latin and 
Italian. With this family he would proceed to 
Florence, and there join Mrs. Bruce and Judith 
when they summoned him. 

In the latter part of September, 1867, three 
visitors knocked at the gate of the Palazzo Bor- 
gosoia. They were Mrs. Bruce, Judith Forano 

and Padre Innocenza. 

34 


398 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

The porter was, however, the only present 
inhabitant of the Palazzo; he informed the 
strangers that Signore Francini’s family were 
yet at the Villa Anteta. 

“That lies next to Villa Forano,” said Mrs. 
Bruce. “ Courage, then, we will set out for Villa 
Anteta early in the morning.” 

Padre Innocenza was so busy engaging a 
carriage, and impressing on the driver the 
necessity of punctuality, that he had no time to 
call that evening on Dr. Polwarth. He felt 
also as if he could see no one, could do nothing 
until he had made his confession of wrong doing 
to the Marchese. Now that Padre Innocenza, 
after so long struggles, had begun to unravel the 
web of his past transgressions, he desired to 
make thorough and speedy work of it. 

Dawn found our eager travelers ready for a 
start, much more ready than the driver- whom 
they had engaged, and when Innocenza suc- 
ceeded in bringing him to the hotel door, he 
appeared with a truly deplorable pair of horses, 
vowing them to be the most magnificent span in 
all Italy. Behind these horses the carriage con- 
taining eager hearts, whose excited wishes outran 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 


399 


the wind, was slowly dragged out of the Porta 
Mare. Such a day’s travel Mrs. Bruce had never 
experienced ; the driver found it needful to delay 
at every albergo for refreshments ; the horses 
merely crawled along the road, and stopped 
continually to rest. Thus the sun was near its 
setting when they climbed the last hill, upon the 
brow of which lay the vineyards of Forano and 
the rose gardens of Anteta. 

The impatience of Judith had now passed all 
limit ; she could not .endure the slow motion 
of the carriage, and sprang from it to walk up 
the hill. Padre Innocenza shared these feelings 
of unrest, and moreover desired to relieve the 
horses of as much of their burden as possible ; 
he therefore alighted and walked slowly behind 
Judith. 

The ascent was steep, the day had been 
fatiguing ; the setting sun shone hotly across 
the brow of the hill, where Judith would rejoin 
Mrs. Bruce : the green gate of a vineyard stood 
open, within were delicious shades cast by the 
trees and vines which overhung the entrance. 
Judith stepped within to escape the heat, and 
Padre Innocenza followed her example, and 
stood looking over her shoulder. 

I 


400 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FOR A NO. 

As they waited thus, a vine-dresser with a 
hook in his hand came from the shadows on the 
left, and turned bright, handsome, untrusty face 
toward the gate. 

As his eyes met those of the two trespassers 
their gay light faded, and a sjudden pallor over- 
spread his countenance; his lips echoed the cry 
which Judith Forano gave, as she sprang toward 
him screaming, “ Gulio ! Gulio Ravi ! what has 
become of my child?” 

“ It is dead,” mumbled Gulio’s white lips, as 
he looked in dread at Innocenza, who had closely 
followed Judith. 

“ How do you know he is dead ? When did 
he die ? ” demanded Judith. 

‘‘The Padre knows everything,” said Gulio, 
waving his hand. 

“Answer me,” said Innocenza, sternly. “ Have 
you seen or heard of that child, since you took 
it to the Innocenti ? ” 

“ No,” faltered Gulio, trembling greatly. 

“You took my child, my tiny babe to the 
Innocenti, Gulio Ravi, you wicked, false wretch ! ” 
cried Judith in a fury. “Oh, what a villain you 
are ! Did I not take you beside my Nicole’s 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS 401 

dead body, and make you take his hand, and 
swear a solemn oath that you would protect our 
child to the last drop of your blood ; that you 
would do all that you could do, to see that the 
child was honored and cared for and established 
as a Forano should be. That if I died, you 
would protect him ! And then — then — you 
robbed me of my babe; you sent the last 
Forano to a foundling asylum— oh, you treach- 
erous villain ! 

Now as Judith had begun to speak, the Mar- 
chese Forano, walking among his vines, had 
heard a raised, excited voice, and coming for- 
ward, saw a very handsome, very angry woman, 
upbraiding Gulio Ravi, who looked the picture 
of terror, while behind the two stood a man in 
half clerical garb. The Marchese drew near, 
and stood unnoticed by the excited group. 
Thus, leaning between two vine props, and 
trembling as he heard Judith’s words, was the 
Marchese, a fourth in this party. As Gulio, pale 
and bowed, did not reply to Judith’s storm of 
speech, she continued: Answer me! Is that 
the way you keep a solemn oath ?” “ Hear me, 
hear me,” explained Gulio : “ I had also made an 
34* 2a 


402 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

oath to my priest— to Padre Innocenza — Padre, 
you remember ? ” ''Davvero^ I wish I could blot 
out the remembrance; I did bind you with a 
fearful oath, Gulio. Your sin is on my mpst 
unhappy head. You kept your oath — the child 
is lost ! Oh, if I could undo the past, break that 
oath, restore that child.” Then the Padre un- 
consciously returned in his pain to the fashion 
of old times, beating his breast and crying, “ My 
fault, my fault, my most grievous fault ! ” 

But at the priest’s cry a change passed over 
Gulio. Color came to his face, light to his eyes, 
he straightened himself, he cried out, “Padre 
Innocenza, do you regret that oath ? do you de- 
sire to have it broken ? do you seek to find the 
lost child of Forano ? ” 

“ Do I not ? ” cried Innocenza ; “ have I not ? 
did I not come to you seeking the child long 
ago?” 

“ No, illustrissimOy asking your pardon, you 
came to know if I had kept the oath. You 
never hinted that you wished it broken.” 

“Too late, too late,” moaned Innocenza. “I 
would buy back the boy with my life, but my 
day of grace is past ! ” 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 403 

. At these words Gulio Ravi clapped his hands 
above his head, and executed three prodigious 
leaps in the air. Then he demanded with a 
shout : Do you give me back my oath ? ” 

“ Too late, too late ; fool that I was to ask it ; 
fool that you were to take it ! ” 

Judith stood sobbing. 

“Do you give me back my oath? Yes or 
no, give it back ! ” yelled Gulio, leaping as in a 
frenzy. 

“ Give it back ! a thousand times, yes ; but 
what good ? ” 

“ Illustrissimo / said the facile Gulio, be- 
coming eloquent, dignified, virtuous, beneficent, 
all in an instant ; “ hear me ; hear Gulio Ravi, 
who should be prime counsellor to Vittorio 
Emmanuelo, that the prosperity of Italy might 
be finally secured. Hear the man who never 
breaks an oath ; hear the man who can keep at 
once two contrary oaths. Signora Forano, I 
vowed to protect and honor your child ; I have 
kept my oath. The word of Gulio Ravi is steel 
that cannot be broken. Padre, you made me 
vow that I would carry off that child, that his 
mother and the Foranos should hear of him no 


404 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

more ; that he should never know his parentage. 
You bade me secure this by taking him to the 
Innocenti ; the oath covered the concealing, but 
it did not include the Innocenti ; the Innocenti 
was a precept to me. Padre, like a Christian, I 
kept the oath, but I did not keep the precept. I 
kept my word also to the Signora. Hear the 
word of Gulio Ravi. I reasoned that all a 
young babe can appreciate, be he king or 
peasant, is enough food, play, clothes and sleep. 
As soon as I left the old Monna at Firenze, I 
took the babe out of the city by another train to 
an old aunt of mine, who lived among the 
Chestnut Hills alone, and was deaf and dumb. 
She was a clean, kind creature, and I gave the 
child to her with some of the Signora’s money. 
I trust Gulio Ravi is not a thief! Among the 
hills the boy lived five years, with my aunt, and 
grew so well in size and beauty, that he looked 
like one of the old gods playing in the woods.” 

Now through the rain of Judith ’3 tears broke 
the splendid light of hope. 

“After five years I remembered my two oaths, 
and I said the boy must now be put amidst 
money, friends, luxury, as becomes his family ; 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 405 

also the boy must yet be lost to his relatives 
and his name. I bought him a gay suit, and in 
Carnival time I took him with all secrecy, and 
left him in the house of some rich and liberal 
foreigners.” 

“My child is lost,” shrieked Judith. 

“ Hear Gulio Ravi,” cried the orator of the 
occasion. “ These foreigners live in Italy. 
They received the boy as their son. I had 
heard of them from a friend of mine who lived 
in their service. I chose them for their 
character, and because if I were caught spying 
in their house, I might cover it as a Carnival 
visit to my friend, the young woman. The boy 
has then had all the consideration and comfort 
which I swore to you. Signora. The boy has 
been hidden as I swore to you, ilhistrissimo, 
and if you had not given me back my oath, the 
secret should have found its grave in the heart 
of Gulio, the Oath-Keeper ! ” 

While all this had been passing, Mrs. Bruce, 
wondering what had become of her companions, 
had got as far as the Pavilion of the Shrine, 
where she spied Honor and Michael. Hastily 
embracing her friend, Mrs. Bruce declared her 


406 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

anxiety because Judith had disappeared with the 
priest 

*‘They must have gone into the vineyard/’ 
said Michael, '‘that is the only gateway near 
here. I will fly and look for them.” 

Flushed with eagerness, he bounded along the 
road, darted into the open gate of the vineyard, 
and came within sight of the group there just 
as Judith demanded of the perfidious "Oath- 
Keeper,” 

" Where, where is my son ? ” 

“Here, here!” bellowed Gulio, leaping into 
the air, and then pouncing upon Michael and 
dragging him forward ; “ Signora, embrace your 
son I Padre, the boy is found 1 ” His eye 
caught that of the Marchese, until now unseen 
behind the others. “ Marchese, receive the 
heir of Forano I ” he shouted, inexpressibly glad 
that now the worst was over, and that he had 
not to confess hereafter to the Marchese per- 
sonally. • 

“My son?” said Judith, taking the boy’s 
hand in doubt. She remembered a fair little 
infant ; and here was a rollicking brunette boy 
of nearly thirteen ! 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 


407 


heir?” said the Marchese; “this is Miss 
Maxwell’s adopted son.” 

“And with Miss Maxwell I left him, because 
of Assunta, through whom I had heard that she 
was rich and gracious,” said Gulio. 

“ Stop ! ” cried the Padre. “ If this is the true 
child, he has a mole on his arm, inside the 
elbow joint;” and he hastily stripped the lad’s 
arm. 

“ Behold the mole ! ” cried Gulio, as if it were 
something which he himself had arranged for 
the present crisis. 

“ My Nicole had such a mark,” said Judith, 
clasping the boy to her bosom and kissing him 
passionately. 

“ It is a true Forano mark,” said the Mar- 
chese, striving to share possession of the lad. 
“ My old age is not childless ! ” 

“ He is the true boy,” said Gulio. “ I, Gulio 
Ravi, swear it — I, who have seen him every 
year of his life ; I, Gulio, the Oath-Keeper ! ” 

Gulio had been hastily considering whether 
he should appear as a penitent for his lies, or 
carry it bravely as the master of ceremonies on 
this auspicious occasion. He quickly chose the 


408 THE OATH- KEEPER OF FORANO. 

latter role, and prepared to conduct himself as a 
hero of virtue and a benefactor. He therefore 
darted to the house for the Marohesa, and very 
nearly threw the good lady into a fit by sud- 
denly announcing to her that Ser. Nicole’s boy 
had been found by him, Gulio Ravi ! and that 
the boy, his mother, and his former enemy. 
Padre Innocenza, were now in the vineyard. 

He next ran toward the Villa Anteta, but on 
his way found Mrs. Bruce and Honor Maxwell 
in great perplexity at the loss of Judith, and to 
them he cried out to come to Madame Forano, 
who had obtained from her faithful old servant 
her son, safe and sound ; while both mother and 
child were receiving the blessings of the Mar- 
chese. As the ladies hurried with him to the 
vineyard, he stunned Honor by casually remark- 
ing that the lost and found son was no other 
than her own boy, Michael ! 

The sun has set behind the vineyards of Villa 
Forano, but all the estate seeme glowing with 
the light of joy that floods the hearts of its 
owners. The mother has received her long lost 
child. Padre Innocenza finds the great wrong 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS. 409 

remedied; Forano has an heir, and the benign 
old Marchese and Marchesa rejoice over Michael 
and his mother. Even Gulio’s offenses are over- 
looked, and, although they have caused so much 
bitter sorrow, it is all obliterated by the present 
happiness. Gulio himself fully resolves to walk 
uprightly and eschew guile; for he sees that 
if he had spoken truth but once any time during 
the last seven years, all these troubles might 
have been ended long ago. 

Gulio also bethought himself of his last visit 
to Santa Maria Maggiore of the hills, and he so 
moved Padre Innocenza’s heart, by narrating 
what had then occurred, that the Padre went 
thither without delay, and was so enthusiasti- 
cally welcomed by his former people that he 
could not again leave them : the people claimed 
the church and would have it — and the result 
was that Padre Innocenza remained among 
them, preaching the gospel, he being more than 
beloved by his flock. 

Judith made her home at Villa Forano, with 
her son. The joy of seeing the long-distressed 
widow happy, softened to Honor the grief oc- 
casioned by the loss of her boy; besides she 
35 


410 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

could see him often; and perhaps the fact that 
she was about to be married to a famous sculp- 
tor, who would set up his studio in the Palazzo 
Borgosoia, along with Uncle Francini, had 
something to do with her resignation. 

In 1870 Judith Forano’s brother in India 
died; and as he had always resented the manner 
in which Samuel Lyons had treated their un- 
protected sister, he left her his whole property, 
which, wisely applied, was quite sufficient to re- 
store the falling fortunes of Forano. 

The Marchese built a little evangelical chapel 
beside the Pavilion, and employed Uncle Fran- 
cini to paint out the Virgin’s picture at the 
shrine, and put in its place a picture of the 
Italian Liberties, wherein the face of Italia was 
a portrait of Honor Maxwell. 

In 1870 the world was wide-awake; the gates 
of the city of Rome shut, and the troops of 
Vittorio Emmanuelo sweeping across the Cam- 
pagna, to conquer for the land, its rightful 
capital. This is the cause of religious liberty, 
of political freedom, of education, of great future 
good for Italy so long unhappy. In this army 
march Joseph, Forano, Marchese, the sons of 


THE RESULT OF THE OATHS, 


411 


the martyr Jacopo. Nanni Conti hears where 
his nephews have gone, and he lays by his pack 
of books, shoulders a musket and marches over 
the hills to join the army, and stand by these 
boys, and with them to do his part for Italy. 

The army lies before the city, little harmed 
by the fire from the papal garrison, whose guns 
do not share the infallibility of il papa. 

And here in the rear of the army, in a little 
cart laden with delicacies for the sick, whom do 
we see but those two indomitable refugees from 
the Tuscan Hills, the hoary patriarch and his 
wife, Monna Marie! As he said, the patriarch 
shall preach the Gospel in Rome. 

The Italian army entered the capital in tri- 
umph. With them entered a free Gospel and 
free education. The reign of the Evangel had 
fairly begun in Italy. 

The wounded of both parties were gathered 
into hospitals, and there the kind hearts and 
tender hands of the Evangelicals went to min- 
ister and to pray. 

So went Joseph, son of Jacopo. 


412 THE OATH-KEEPER OF FORANO. 

It was evening; the lamp-light fell dimly on a 
bed where lay a wounded priest. Joseph stood 
looking sadly at him. “ He is not dangerously 
wounded/’ said a surgeon passing by. The 
words awoke the injured man from his uneasy 
slumber; he looked at Joseph, dashed his hands 
across his eyes ; looked again, with an awful 
horror rising in his face; bounded up, with a 
shriek, and fell back; he had ruptured an artery 
dangerously near his wound, and the life-blood 
poured forth. 

Joseph sprang to help him. '*Save me!” 
cried the priost in his dying agony; ‘^save me 
from that spectre; it is Jacopo, whom we burned 
atBarletta!” 

Joseph staggered back; his singular likeness 
to his father had sealed the death-warrant of 
Padre Trentadue. 


THE END. 


of ^orano 



“Save me!” cried the priest in his dying agony; “save me from 
that spectre; it is Jacopo, whom we burned at Barletta!” 

p. 412. 



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